


Perks Of The Job

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Series: The Avengers Know How To Treat Employees [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bucky and Steve decide to show Reader something interesting..., Double Penetration, Employment is incredibly fun with the Avengers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Female Ejaculation, Groping, Hand Jobs, Heteroflexibility, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with very slight feelings, Possibility of romance, Reader is wonderfully sassy!, SO MANY SEX TAGS, Sex, Table Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Tony Stark can't keep his hands off you ;), Touching, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an eventful 'interview', you've been given a job at Stark Tower, and are tremendously excited about your first day.</p>
<p>While it may just be an 'admin job', you learnt from the interviewing process that there are several, delightful perks...</p>
<p>And the courageous, national icons residing there certaibly don't intend for you to plough through much of the paperwork you were hired to take care of...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Iron Man Always Plunges Head First Into The Combat Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, folks! It's good to be bringing this naughty fic back! :D
> 
> PART TWO!!! PORN FOR EVERYONE!! YAY!! ^.^
> 
> This time, with the other Avengers who I missed out in the last fiction. But that's not to say I won't be bringing back a few from the previous installment ;)
> 
> I really, really, really hope this first chapter of part two does NOT disappoint! :D
> 
> Enjoy! By the way, apologies for any errors or missed letters/words. I was getting a bit sleepy when I posted this :3

You quickly comb your fingers through your hair, taming any unruly locks, then check the small amount of make-up you've used in the miniscule, rectangular mirror of your car's sun visor. You purse your lips in a sensual pout and look up at your reflection through mascara-coated lashes, coquettishly. You find yourself trialling a series of flirtatious expressions, in preparation for your first day at Stark Tower. Well aware that your career doesn't solely consist of sitting at a desk, filling out any paperwork, creating spreadsheets and, sporadically, acting as Tony Stark's PA- you wanted to look sophisticated and  _ **sexy**_ for the city's perpetually libidinous heroes, who evidently enjoy showing employees the additional benefits of super-soldier serum, intensive training or unbridled lust.

Realising the guy in the car beside yours in the parking lot is watching you with a bemused smirk, you promptly snap the sun guard back up and give him a defiant look, before snatching up your handbag and stepping out of your car. His smirk fades when catches a glimpse of your work outfit, and his expression is simply a picture of beguilement.

You selected your attire carefully in the morning. You're wearing a figure-hugging, short sleeve, [colour that you find most flattering to wear], low-cut top with a square neckline, a form-fitting, 'shorter-than-regulation-would-allow', onyx grey skirt, complete with a matching belt tied into an elegant bow- the remaining length of the fabric draping down stylishly, and sleek, glossy [matching the colour of the top] kitten heels.

You look gorgeous, and you damn well know it, so you lift your hand to your mouth, press a kiss against your fingertips and purse your lips to mime blowing the kiss in his direction. Opting not to stay and see his reaction, you walk off towards Stark Tower, a confident sway in your hips.

When you stride in through the entrance, you wave jauntily at the bubbly-natured, yet softly spoken receptionist-Melissa-and greet her with a melodic lilt to your voice, whilst making a purposeful beeline for the elevator. For security's sake, you have to lean forward to allow a retinal scan to be performed. Once the gadget verifies your status at the Tower, you wait for a few moments before the doors slide open with a mechanical whisper, revealing two other passengers.

Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton.

 

You smile genially at the both of them, then step into the elevator.

"What floor are you on?" Natasha asks, in a smoky, dulcet voice, when the doors shut almost soundlessly.

"Admin." You reply shyly. A blush tints your cheeks a shade of pink.

"You heard the lady, JARVIS." Clint says amiably to the AI.

" **Indeed I did, Mr Barton. Welcome back, Miss [Your Last Name].** " JARVIS greets you cordially.

"Hi, JARVIS, nice to...um... ** _hear_ ** you again." _**Do artifical intelligence programs appreciate sentiment? Or did that just sound weird?**_ You contemplate.

" **Thank you, Miss [Your Last Name]. Your expression of familiarity is**   **reciprocated**."

"I think JARVIS has a soft spot for you, [Your Name]." Clint jokes affably.

" **Mr Barton, it would be impossible for me to possess a 'soft spot', considering my components are entirely inorganic**. "

"And the magic is gone..." Natasha pipes up.

 

"So you're this new admin girl I've been hearing about?" She then proceeds to ask.

"What have you heard about me, then?" You inquire, turning your head to look at the fierce, beautiful Russian seductively. You feel her close the space between the two of you.

"All the things you wanted me to hear." She says silkily.

"Hmm?"

"That you enjoy having a  mouth between those delicious looking thighs of yours-" Natasha purrs into your ear, gliding her fingers up the bare skin of your revealed thighs. A shiver dances along your spine and through your loins.

"Uh huh?"

"That you _**love**_ , you absolutely, whole-heartedly **_adore_**.... having super-soldier and demi-god dick inside of you-" She adds, slipping her hand up your skirt, and tracing over your parts in slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of your underwear.

"Uh...anything else?" You reply, nearly breathless. She presses her soft body to your back, fitting into the curvature of your spine perfectly

"And that you sound unbelievably hot when you come." She speaks to you as though you're already a lover, her breath warm in your ear and against your neck, her titilating words making your body respond eagerly to her advances. Natasha abruptly removes her hand from your crotch and gently squeezes your backside.

"I can't wait to get a piece of that." She says, both sincere and aroused. The elevator doors slide open when you reach the Administration Floor. You turn to face the two Avengers.

"When will that be?" You quiz them. Natasha and Clint exchange satisfied smirks.

"Later today. Maybe tomorrow. Could even be next week." Natasha focuses those captivating green eyes on your own, as she delivers her intentionally enigmatic response. Clint is watching intently, a hungry smile on his lips. He's made no attempt to conceal the tightening of his jeans in the region of his crotch. _**I'm starting to get used to that sight,**_ you think, half-amused.

"See you around, [Your Name]." Natasha bids you farewell, relishing your name as though every letter is a creamy drizzle of molten chocolate on her tongue.

 

Taking your first few steps onto the Admin Floor, you expect to see other employees hustling and bustling around. Instead, you're in awe, drinking in the sight of what appears to be one, _**enormous**_ office. Faithful to the stylish, modern decor of the Stark Tower, this office is breath-taking.

The floor is almost entirely smooth, light grey granite, save for the large circle of pristine, cream frieze carpeting at the far end of the office-at a slightly lower level to the granite flooring. Two long, duck-egg blue sofas curve around the perimeter of the circle of carpet, with a dark grey, marble coffee table in the centre. Beside the sofas, a section of the cream walls- with a light wood panelling- juts forward-and you see a large, flat-screen TV mounted on it. You swing your head around to the centre of the room, and gaze out of the wall of huge windows-a magnificent view of the city stretching out in front of you. You then see a grey, marble desk-topped with a computer and the standard office paraphernalia- and partnered with a very comfortable looking, suede desk chair. At the other end of the office is a stunning kitchenette-with (unsurprisingly) marble topped counters, a meticulously cleaned and polished silver fridge, microwave, food processor and coffee machine-and raised above the rest of the office, accessible only by a small, curving ramp, are two doors.

Out of inexorable curiosity, you wander off towards them, to investigate the rooms for which they provide entry to. You open the first one you encounter, revealing an extraordinary bathroom. Sand-coloured granite tiles cover both the floor and walls, with the wall of the curved quadrant shower and side panel of the _**bath**_ being comprised of strips of dark brown, hazel and beige strips of marble. Both the sink and toilet are shining, white porcelain.

The other room is truly a sight to behold. A stunning bedroom with warm, rich colours throughout, and dark oak panel flooring. _**Holy shit, talk about sparing no expense**_ , you think, totally agog at your new office. Which could easily become your new apartment.

Working for Tony Stark seems just too perfect to be true.

Exiting the bedroom, you spot a vase full of beautiful orchids on the coffee table over at the other end of your office. You wonder how they managed to go unnoticed, seeing as they're the only source of vivid colour in the room. Travelling the length of your office, you finally reach the flowers, and see a small white card poking out from behind delicate petals-

_**Enjoy your new office, sweet stuff.** _

_**From your favourite, incorrigible engineer xx** _

 

After settling down at your desk, you're met with the sight of a few bundles of paperwork. Each bundle has been dutifully labelled with a post-it note. One pile consists of invoices for employees at Stark Industries that you apparently need to put through onto the system, and then place each one in an envelope marked with the respective employee's address. Another bundle is related to events Tony has been asked to attend, and charity events and fundraisers he himself is hosting. The final bundle is paperwork related to the replacement damaged equipment. That particular pile is thicker than you would like.

You plough on with your workload, periodically glancing up to admire your stunning surroundings or spinning around in your swivel chair to gaze out across the city landscape. Just as you're about to resume the processing of invoices, the elevator doors slide open.

"Hey there, you guys. Good to see you both again." You flash Steve and Bucky a bright, beaming smile

"Hi there, [Your Name]. Natasha and Clint told us you were here, so we thought we'd drop in before heading down to the training area. First day going alright so far?" Steve inquires amiably.

"It's going wonderfully, thank you, Steve. This office-" You spread your arms out and look up and around the room to emphasise it's vastness - "-is fricking incredible. I genuinely could leave my apartment and move in here. There's a _**bedroom**_. A _**bedroom**_ in my office! I love it!"

"I'm glad you're happy. I guess that's one of the many upsides of working for someone like Tony." Steve remarks with a grin.

"And I think we _**al**_ _ **l**_ know about some of the  _ **other**_   upsides of working here." Bucky points out archly. His best friend blushes virginally. You consider it a remarkable feat, seeing as he'd had his face between your legs and was then inspired to talk dirty while being ridden to orgasmic bliss in the back of your car the day before

 

"That explains the bedroom." You reply salaciously. "Do you plan on coming back here to ravish me every other hour?"

"Doll, I'd ravish you right now on that desk, but apparently we're supposed to let you work and not disrupt you. _**Too much**_." Bucky tells you in that delectably husky tone. He's donning his Winter Soldier gear-and postively exuding sex appeal in unbearable quantities, with his hands holding his belt, standing with his legs positioned apart in a confident, authoritative stance. _**He has got to be a sex god incarnate**_ , you determine.

"You could both quickly _**disrupt me**_ now, I won't tell." You feign a kittenish innocence.

"As much as we'd enjoy doing that, we really better let you carry on. Maybe another time?" Steve, ever the voice-of-reason, says, ushering Bucky towards the elevator.

"Pussy tease!" You call out petulantly. Bucky releases an agonised groan, evidently in a similar frame of mind to yourself.

"C'mon, Steve! [Your Name] _**wants**_ the super-soldier D!" He argues, coaxing a mirthful snort from you.

"That's it, you are banned from the internet, Buck. You heard what Tony said-let her get some of her work done. And you and I both know that he seems to be kind of-well..." Steve says, before falling silent.

"Tony seems kind of _**what**_ ?" You ask, Steve's words piquing your interest.

"Huh?" Bucky appears flummoxed.

"Look at the flowers, Buck." Steve jabs his finger in the direction of the gift. Bucky holds his hands up and backs away suddenly.

"Don't go **_Walking Dead_**   on me, Steve."

"No! I mean, he's given [Your Name] _**flowers**_. What do you think?"

"You are horrible at subtlety, Steve. Yes, Tony has given me flowers. It's a friendly welcoming present. What? _**You think he wants to have sex with me**_ ? That ship has sailed."

"Precisely. I mean, I want to screw [Your Name] until she can't walk straight and I haven't given her flowers." Bucky defends Tony's gesture of affection.

"Correction, you're _**both**_ horrible at subtlety. But the two of you are also incredibly adorable and scalding hot, so...I'll let you get off this time." You tease them impishly, winking at both super-soldiers.

"Oh, baby, I want to watch you _**get off**_   so badly." Bucky moans ravenously, before getting shoved into the open elevator by Steve.

"Control yourself, Buck. See you later, [Your Name]. It was swell catching up with you." The blond bids you farewell sweetly.

"Nice catching up with you too, Steve. And it was especially nice getting a glimpse of that spectacular ass of yours, too."

You can't decide which is the sweeter sight. Seeing Steve's face glow crimson, or seeing Bucky actually jerk his head back, hands clasping his stomach as raucous laughter tears through his body and fills the elevator.

 

An hour later, JARVIS' calm voice-with its impeccable diction-speaks to you-

" **Miss [Your Last Name], Mr Stark has requested your assistance in his work-shop**." He summons you on Tony's behalf, the elevator doors opening of their own accord. You jump up out of your seat and hurry towards the elevator.

"Oh, sure thing! Of course!" You say almost frantically. The moment you're stood in the elevator you decide to question the AI. "So, JARVIS-did, um, _**Mr Stark**_ mention why he needed me?"

" **He did not specify the reason, I'm afraid, Miss [Your Last Name].** "

"Oh. Okay. Well. I guess I'll be finding out shortly, then." A tremor of anticipation passes through your body. The _**only**_ possible downside to the 'extra benefits' of your new career is that it's difficult to discern between what is a genuine request for assistance and what is an invitation for a spicy, indecorous encounter.

On arrival at the workshop, you initially are unable to find your employer, the only sound being a soft whirring. The workshop is huge, and jam-packed with numerous items of large machinery, cables and wiring trailing across the floor in a manner which could be seen as a health hazard. Tables are placed in the room, arranged most likely for convenient access rather than aesthetics, covered in yet more equipment and gadgets, or in a few cases-loaded with monitors. Away from the clutter of tables and equipment, you notice the variations of Tony's Iron Man suit-all neatly stored in their own secure case.

 

"Um...Tony?" You call out, loud enough for him to hear over the whirring . The handsome billionaire suddenly appears, as if out of nowhere, a soldering iron in gloved hands, and safety goggles over his eyes. He's wearing a snug, black vest that offers a more than generous view of the firm muscle on his arms and his taut physique.

"[Your Name]!" He dips behind some equipment, vanishing momentarily. The whirring sound ceases, and he reappears-safety goggles now removed-pulling his thick gloves off a finger at a time. "Glad you could stop by!"

"You asked me to come down here." You say warily.

"You're getting caught up in the details, [Your Name]." Tony remarks, casting his gloves aside onto the nearest table.

"Tony, I'm your administrator and unofficial personal assistant. I have to get caught up in details." You rally pithily, but team the comment with a sultry smile to show a distinct lack of conviction behind your words.

"Ah, I've missed you, [Your Name]."

"You saw me yesterday."

"I refuse to retract my statement." The engineer insists with an endearing stubborness.

"When have you ever retracted anything, Tony?" You ask, a grin steadily dragging the corners of your mouth up.

"I was doing plenty of retracting and protracting yesterday-and you seemed to enjoy it." He points out licentiously. You roll your eyes and stride forward.

"You know what, I've missed you too, you handsome, horny pervert." You wind your arms around him, banishing the space between the two of you as you lock into an embrace. Without hesitation, his strong arms wrap around your waist, both an intimate and protective gesture.

 

"Three words that sum me up so well." He says.

"Yep. So, why'd you ask me down here exactly?" You probe lightly, hoping he'll throw some witty, flirtatious comment your way and then ease those coarse yet gentle hands up your skirt. Instead, he holds his finger up, eyebrows now raised, as if being struck by a revelation.

"Ah! Yeah! I need your help with something!"

"Oh. Right. Sure." You try to prevent disappointment leaking into your words, now slightly crestfallen.

"I have been 'asked'-" He crooks the index and middle fingers of both hands, to mimic quotation marks- "-to host a charity event. I could do with your help on deciding what kind of theme to go for, what I should get for food, entertainment etcetera etcetera." Tony couldn't look more unenthusiatic if he tried.

"Fair enough. Saves me some time on paperwork. Let's brainstorm." You agree, your manner verging on sullen.

"You wonderful woman! Thank you!" Tony takes your hand into his own and kisses it repeatedly, even going so far as to smatter your arm with light pecks. Physically incapable of remaining even remotely downcast in Tony's presence, you giggle delightedly.

 

The two of you are perched on tall stools at a table, covered in notes and blueprints. You've taken note of a few ideas for Tony's upcoming event, but now you both appear to be struggling. As you grow more frustrated, Tony apparently grows less concerned with planning his event, and is preoccupied with rubbing your thighs

"Tony, it's a charity event for the homeless-how does hiring a mariachi band bear any relevance to that?" You ask sharply, determined to stay focused, to not to open your legs and give him full, unadulterated access.

"I could hire a _**homeless**_ mariachi band." He suggests. You sigh expaseratedly. "You know, I'm pretty sure this skirt is much shorter than what's considered _**appropriate**_ , sweet stuff. Are you trying to get your employer's attention?" Tony taunts you playfully, leaning in to kiss your neck.

"It's clearly working, though, isn't it?" You retort laconically.

"Mmm. You've caught me. Don't get me wrong, I think you look amazing in it...but I'd rather see you _**out of it**_." He practically purrs.

"I thought we to 'get on with work', Tony. You wanted to brainstorm ideas for this charity event."

"I've had a sudden change of heart." The billionaire persists, squeezing the flesh of your thighs, hand venturing further up your legs-causing a damp heat to begin pooling between them.

"I didn't know your heart was in your dick." You respond curtly, earning a small chuckle from the brunet, the sudden exhale hot on your neck. Tony brushes his lips over your jawline. "I thought you asked me down here so we could screw each other-because of the _**message you sent me yesterday**_. Then you needed me here for **_work purposes_**. Now, you're trying to get into my panties. I'm getting mixed signals, Tony."

"How do you know I didn't ask you to come down so we could bang each other?"

"Um, because you said you- **oh my God**. Tony!" You thump him-not aggressively, but not gently either. "You're such an _**asshole**_ ! Is this some weird, drawn-out foreplay?" Unwittingly, you've opened your legs by a fraction, so the opportunistic engineer slides his hand in immediately.

"I know, I know, you're annoyed. But _**something**_   tells me you're not _**completey**_ annoyed-" He slips his forefinger and middle finger inside of your underwear, and trails them over your lips to the slick wetness. "Yep. Definitely not completely annoyed."

"I want to slap you and fuck you at the same time."

"Be my guest, sweet stuff." With that, Tony seizes hold of your hips and somehow pulls you across onto his lap.

 

You clutch at the low, round collar of his tight, black vest, tug him closer to you and lean in to kiss him with an unwaning hunger. You plunge your tongue into his mouth _**viciously**_ , and his simply responds to greet this sensual invasion. You kiss passionately, fiercely, before parting lips, and craning your neck back so he can press kisses along your throat. You mewl quietly with every tiny embrace. Tony's hands cup your buttocks and squeeze them eagerly.

"Tony..." You gasp. He retaliates, positioning his arms beneath you, standing up, and hoisting you on to the table. The brunet stands between your legs, hands stroking your thighs once more, as you lock mouths keenly. Keeping one palm flat on the table behind you for support, you take the other hand and take hold of your lover's _**hard**_ crotch. You pull back, breaking the kiss.

"Iron Man ready for action?" You tease.

"He's been ready for the past ten minutes." Tony tells you hotly, his hand going from your thigh to the back of your head-to push your faces together, resuming the desperate kisses. His hands travel up and down the length of your back, and yours alternate beween combing through and tugging at his hair. When makes to tug your top off, you shove him away. Confusion passes across his features, until you smile wryly and wag your finger from side to side.

"You're not getting that privellage again. Sit down." You command firmly. The billionaire returns to his seat, watching you intently. Slowly, you begin peeling your top off, making him wait for every pore of skin.

"Fuck..." He gasps. When you finally pull the item of clothing over your head, revealing your bra, you notice Tony's chest heaving.

He's panting.

"Tell me how ready Iron Man is, Tony." You demand.

"He's so damn ready. He's hard, _**very fucking hard**_...and he really, really wants to enter the Combat Zone."

"What does he want to do when he enters the Combat Zone?" You start pulling down the zipper of your skirt, torturously slow. You're relishing the sight of Tony losing composure. _**So he's into strip teasing. Better keep that in mind ,**_ you think.

"Wants to...fill the Combat Zone over and over again. Make her moan. Feel her clamp down around him when she comes..."

"So much for the innuendo. How does Iron Man feel when he's in the Combat Zone, Tony?" You torment him, easing the skirt down over your hips at the agonisingly slow pace.

"Like his mind has been fucking blown." You hear his voice crack ever so slightly.

"I feel exactly the same when you're inside me." You place a finger under his chin, and push the skirt down your legs with your free hand. Lifting your feet, one at a time, daintily, you step out of the confines of your discarded skirt.  You then kick your kitten heels off, letting them skitter away across the floor. "Take my panties off, Tony." You rest against the edge of the table, awaiting his response.

 

Tony _**kneels down**_ in front of you, resting his hands on your outer thighs, and cranes his neck around, so his lips are touching your left hip.

Expecting a kiss, you smile smugly, preparing to stroke his hair affectionately.

Instead he opens his mouth, baring his teeth slightly. Your smile fades.

He takes the lace of your underwear _**between his teeth**_ and starts steadily tugging them down.

 _ **He is taking your underwear off with his mouth**_. You channel every ounce of effort into not gawping in an asinine fashion.

Tony moves to your right hip, and does the same, tugging the lace down with his mouth. Your heart pounds in excitement when he positions his face in front of your parts. The billionaire stretches his neck and kisses the spot just beneath your navel, following it with a leisurely smattering of kisses questing _**down**_ towards the lowered waistline of your underwear.You open your mouth, allowing a small moan to be liberated. Tony's beautiful, chocolate eyes glance up at you, and you _**feel**_ his mouth curl up into a smile against your flesh. He then takes the waistline of your underwear between his lips, and slides them down.

Soon, you're exposed, your underwear being pulled down your calves. The brunet gets back to his feet, then grasps your bare buttocks. He lifts you back onto the table, nudging you further back. You feel yourself shuffling back over paper.

"I think I'm sitting on your notes..." You say.

"I can make more." Tony replies, unperturbed, slipping your underwear over your ankles and dropping them on your abandoned skirt.

"They might get a little _**wet**_."

"Then I'll definitely keep them." He assures you, crushing his lips againsts yours. You pluck at the hem of his vest and ease it up his torso. Taking the fairly heavy hint, Tony removes the vest and throws it to join your top at the end of the table. With his skin on display, you lick a stripe up his sternum, then start placing butterfly kisses on his pectoral muscles. Your fingers trace the contours of his abdominal tone, eliciting a restful sigh. His fingers, in the meantime, are deftly undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down each shoulder. You hold your arms down, encouraging the garment to fall off.

 

A chill bites at your breasts, causing your areolae to pucker. This doesn't go unnoticed by Tony, who promptly places his mouth over one breast, using his tongue to draw an erotic path around your nipple. He then moves to lavish your other breast with the same affection. You reach around and grab his backside, urging him to move closer so his crotch his mere millimetres from your own. Tony pulls away from your breast-

"Lie back." He tells you huskily. You do so, the cold surface of the table covering your back in goose-pimples. You wriggle down, closer to the edge of the table. Tony spreads your legs out even further than they were before.

"What are you gonna do now?" You ask him, languidly, with drowsy eyes. The engineer gives his answer by placing his tongue on the lips of your private parts, and dragging it up and up-over the centre of your stomach and up through the valley between your breasts, making you shudder and gasp. He then ghosts his lips across your skin, retracing his path. He lifts your left leg, and bends down, to lick your inner thigh and the juncture of your thigh and pelvis. His tongue, then, merely grazes over your lower lips yet again-causing you to jolt-and proceeds to your right inner thigh.

"Tony..." You whine imploringly. He lifts his head from your thigh and looks at you significantly. "Tony..." You repeat dreamily. Tony gently sets your leg down, and his hands roam over your stomach and breasts, his eyes lapping up every inch of you the way they had when he'd seen you in the shower.

"Oh, Tony, I want you..." You croon longingly, the ache of yearning in your clitoris and deep within your loins.

Whether it's the beseeching tone of your voice or the fact you're probably drenching his table and notes with your desire-Tony, at last, gives in, now unbuckling his belt. The second you hear his zipper being undone, you prop yourself up on your elbows to catch sight of his member. Tony drags his jeans and boxer shorts down far enough for him to be able to move comfortably.

And, of course, his member does not disappoint. He looks _**painfully**_ hard, the tip swollen and glistening-ready to be enveloped in your grasping, wet heat.

The brunet dips his fingers inside of you, then pulls the now soaked, shining digits back out. When you watch him cover his erection with _**your**_   wetness, you feel the ache for contact turn to a burning lust-a desperation for stimulating friction to release the tension inside of you.

"Ready, [Your Name]?"

"Absolutely."

 

You lie back again, and moan in satisfaction when Tony enters you, his penis coasting unhurriedly along your walls. He alters his position slightly, so his pubic bone rubs against your clitoris. Your hear his breath hitch as he rolls his hips back and forth to culminate in the deep, steady thrusts you've been craving, the sensation of him filling you. Everytime he draws back, a flutter of anxiety and excitement dances impishly in your stomach, knowing every return of his solid length will be sweeter than the last-as it provides the release you've been seeking all day, the addictive ecstacy-while short-lived yet so incomparably gratifying.

Equally, you love the way Tony comes undone when he's inside of you. As though in the moments of coupling, the only thing that seems to hold any value to him is the way you feel enclosing him- your warmth, your softness, your clamouring moans are _**his sanctuary**_.

You wind your legs around his waist, and throw your arms above your head to grip the edge of the table.

You know damn well you're flushed, damp with perspiration and your neatly arranged hair now resembles something Giorgio Tsoukalos' stylist would produce- _**but you don't give a single shit**_ because Tony is striking every pleasurable spot you possess, the tight coil of a growing orgasm between your legs drawing forth loud groans and cries of -"Oh Tony! Tony! Jesus Christ! Tony!  _ **Fuck fuck fuck**_! Ughhh! Tony!"

Tony responds to your caterwauling by pumping in and out of you at a quicker pace, gripping your thighs to aid the build of momentum. His sounds of pleasure are deliciously wavering and varying in volume-sometimes controlled gasps and grunts, sometimes gravelling drawn-out groans, or even the occasional fearsome, loud moan, which not only brings your inevitable pounding orgasm closer, but adds to your wetness. Tony's length-you figure- has probably been saturated, judging by the obscenely slick crackling you hear whenever he thrusts into you.

You decide to quickly hike yourself up on your elbows once more to drink in the sight of the billionaire.

He looks like sinful temptation personified.

A few strands of his hair are sticky with sweat. His face, chest and muscular arms are covered in a sheen of perspiration. He's smooth skin is stained red with an intense flush. Still, the look in his eyes, the unflinching focus on you is incredible. It's so primal-like you're two animals rutting away furiously-so _**predatory**_ -as though you're succulent prey he wants to devour, to explore every tender inch of you-, and somehow so _**adoring**_ \- as if you're the only woman who could possibly make him feel this way.

 

Tony is groaning and _**growling**_   without inhibition, screwing you with the same urgency as he had yesterday. You greet each thrust with a buck of your hips and a resounding, but delicate cry of delight.

"You're...you're fucking killing me here...." He pants, in a voice so unlike his own. He leans down, his face only just coming level with your stomach. He has both palms laid flat either side of your waist. "Fuck... _ **fuck**_....don't...not gonna fucking... _ **fuck**_!" He snarls to himself. You take fright when he slaps the table with his palm, but your mind is still too blitzed out as you're floating in the cathartic throes of pleasure.

"Baby...what's wrong? What's wrong?" You ask, drunkenly.

"I'm getting too fucking close. Want...want to make you come first..."

"S'okay if you do. I don't mind. I'm close too. Just relax. You always make me feel good." You say, intoxicated on the endorphin rush. He raises himself up to look at your face, and you gaze up at him ardently, reaching up to clutch his shoulders. You're now skimming along dangerously, close to tumbling over the edge.

Your eyes widen in incredulity, and you start gasping and panting to signal the fast approach of your _**petite mort**_. You feel light-headed, body seizing up in expectation. You dig your fingers into Tony's shoulders and tighten the hold your legs have on his waist.

"Tony! Tony, I'm gonna come!" You shriek.

All it takes is the engineer to grind harder against your clitoris, and you reach your frenzied climax.

Your walls spasm, clenching around Tony's erection-releasing the tension perfectly.

He immediately joins you, spilling his hot seed into your passage with a throaty yell of your name.

For a few moments, you both remain silent, unmoving, in the haze of post-coital langour.

 

Eventually Tony stands straight, carefully pulling himself from you. Presumably he tucks his softened length away, as you hear his zipper being done up.

You sit up, meeting his eyes. The two of you just _**gaze**_ at one another, before smiling contentedly in synch. He's steps forward and wraps his arms around you in a heart-warmingly, tender embrace. You both stay locked together for a while, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder.

"That was considerably more fun than planning a charity event." Tony chimes, in his trademark, 'smart-mouthed' tone.

"Aaaannnd you're back." You tease. "I've never seen you so intense."

"Me? Intense? I was lost in the moment, [Your Name]. Intensity is not my forte."

"Okay." You reply, unconvinced.

"Okay? _**Okay**_ ? That translates to 'I don't believe a word you're saying'. I hate 'okay'!" He says.

"Okay." You suppress a smirk.

"Evil woman." He grumbles.

"You love me for it, though, don't you?" You joke. Oddly, there's a slight pause, which is out of character for Tony-who can come back with a snappy retort with enviable speed.

"Yes, I do love yo....your attitude." His arms tighten around you, with his words of sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it? :)
> 
> I know it's a bit long, but I didn't think that would such a bad thing! :D
> 
> By the way, if anyone happens to wonder who Giorgio Tsoukalos is...he's that weird 'ALIENS!' meme guy XD


	2. Definitely One To Get Between Two Friends- Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Firstly-I'm soooo sorry this has taken so long. I've just been ridiculously busy with work stuff-and it completely drains the life out of me! No energy whatsoever left to write. Just work, work, work all the darn time :'(
> 
> But alas, I've finally got round to writing this chapter. I know some of you were probably expecting a Clint/Natasha/Reader chapter or one of the other characters....but I really couldn't resist doing a Bucky/Steve/Reader chapter. To top it off, this chapter would have been so long, I've had to split it into two parts. Sorry if you were hoping for a different pairing/grouping....I was genuinely desperate to write this :'D
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this at least, and please forgive me for being an evil person and splitting this grouping into two chapters :3

"What were you gonna say?" You pull your head back, an inquisitive expression crinkling your features.

"What do you mean? I said what I was gonna say." Tony half-dismisses the question.

"No, you were going to say something else." You narrow your eyes in suspicion, still holding onto the engineer.

"I hesitated. I was trying to find the most suitable phrasing. " He insists.

"Uh-uh, you never hesitate. Your lack of impluse control and raging ego would never allow it." You dissect his explanation, teasingly.

"Sometimes, [Your Name], even incredibly intelligent, confident and handsome devils such as myself have reservations." He says. You snort amusedly.

"I call 'bullshit' on that, Tony."

"Excuse me, you're butt naked and sitting on my notes and plans-you're not allowed to be derisive." Tony kisses your neck.

" _ **Excuse me**_ , you're going to be jerking off with your _**wet and sticky**_ notes- _**you're**_ not allowed to be imperious." You comb your fingers through his soft, dark hair.

"My jerking off furiously later on is completely unrelated-" He balks.

"So's a fricking mariachi band at a homeless charity event." You rally, stroking his back.

"You pick up on that, and not the fact I'm going to be greasing the monkey." He sounds almost alarmed.

"Because I assume you spend the majority of your time-when you're not creating, admittedly, incredible technology or eating or annoying Steve-masturbating fervently."

"You raise a fair point." He acknowledges, strangely humble.

"I'd say I raised a fair point earlier on too." You reply lewdly, with an upward quirk of your eyebrows. Tony huffs out a laugh, nodding slowly as if impressed by your innuendo.

"Nicely done, [Your Name], nicely done." The billionaire nuzzles into the crook of your neck, allowing you to rest your chin on his shoulder and tilt your head against his.

"Thank you. I'm learning from the best." You speak tenderly into his ear. "I know you were gonna say something else earlier. Sounded like you were about to say 'I love you' or something. It's alright if you were. You can tell me, Tony." You pursue your earlier line of questioning. Tony seems to turn rigid in your arms, offering no verbal response.

"Okay, Tony. Never mind. It's okay." You assure him, kissing his temple.

 

You pull your work clothes back on, smoothing out any creases, then slide your feet back into their kitten heels. Tony's arms encompass your waist, and his lips are pressed lightly to the back of your neck, his coarse facial hair scratching your skin just slightly. You twist your head around, his face appearing in your peripheral field of view, and rest your arms over his.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Tony."

"There's nothing uncomfortable about this position, or the ones we've been in during this fun encounter." He says, voice distorted as his mouth is pushed against your skin. You refrain from rolling your eyes, and settle to sigh wearily.

"Ha ha, Tony. You know what I mean." You say pointedly. His mouth tears away from the back of your neck, depriving you of his warmth and the softness of his lips

"Yeah, well...it's fine. Let's not talk about it, okay?" He says briskly, clearly doing his best to skirt around the issue of his feelings. It seems to be a subject the playboy is intensely uncomfortable about broaching.

"Okay." You agree, acquiescent to Tony's curt 'suggestion'. Keen to avoid any palpable tension, you slowly twirl around in his arms and meet his dark, searching eyes. Resting one hand on his chest, and lifting the other, you drift a fingertip over his lips. "Let's not end this song on a sour note, huh?" You suggest, both tenderly and diplomatically. He looks away for a brief moment, as if guilty about something. Before he can speak, you close the distance between the both of you and push your mouths together in a passionate embrace.

When you eventually pull back, you intertwine your fingers between his- so as you take a few steps backwards, your arms are outstretched, hands still linked to his. You cast him a beguiling look, your lids lowered seductively to inflict the full force of your bedroom eyes on the billionaire.

 

"Gonna miss me, Tony?" You inquire flirtatiously.

"Like I said, I'm gonna be whacking off when you leave. I'd say you've got your answer right there."

"Wasn't doing me on the table satisfying enough?" You ask, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a complacent smirk.

"Oh, it was, trust me. But now I've got _**wet**_ notes, a dick still covered in your juice and a mental image of you looking totally _**debauched**_ . How could I possibly be capable of focusing on any kind of work now?"

"Is that a complaint I hear, Tony?" You ask, sordidly.

"Did I, at any point, say I didn't _**like**_ being distracted by you? Go on, you better go. Otherwise I'd have you down here all day-"

"Doesn't sound like a negative thing to me-" You interject coyly.

"-but you do have to work to do."

"Ugh. I'm hearing too much of that today. Did you actually tell Steve and Bucky they had to leave me to it? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm okay doing the work you hired me to do-but I was hoping for a _**bit**_ more action..." You pry. Tony's posture changes, his body stiffens, he folds his arms and he thrusts his chest out slightly, as if trying to assert authority or dominance.

"Didn't get enough of Capsicle and Princess Elsa yesterday?" He inquires with a strangely accusatory tone.

"I can't get enough of _**any**_ of you. Don't get _**jealous**_ , Tony, you've got a special place in my heart. And other places..." You drape yourself over him, a sleepy smile in place.

"I don't get _**jealous**_. I'm not jealous. Who says I'm _**jealous**_ ? Envy is so... _ **arduous**_."

"Uh oh, I hear Mr _**Jealous-Pants**_ talking..." You mock him lightly, tapping his cheek impishly.

"Ha ha ha, how witty, Miss [Your Last Name]! _**Mr Jealous-Pants**_? Where do you get your jibes from, huh? Kindergartners?"

"Shhhh." You place two fingers over his lips. "Hunky engineers shouldn't speak so much." You begin stroking his face. The billionaire manages to look both indignant and perplexed.

"What did-wh-did you just-?"

"Shut you up? Yes. I think that warrants a gold medal."

"I'm speechless."

"Not speechless enough." You quip, kissing him on his cheek, pausing momentarily to breathe in the faintly lingering scent of his cologne. "I think I love  _ **your attitude**_   too, Tony." You whisper, as though disclosing something clandestine, before making your exit-suddenly afraid to witness his reaction.

 

During the elevator ride up back to your office, you swipe your palm over the back of your neck absent-mindedly. You wonder whether it had been wise to make that timidly spoken admission. You find yourself torn apart in an internal debate-one half convinced Tony would reciprocate any _**stronger feelings**_ **,** judging by his hurried rephrasal and transient period of stone-walling. The other half finds ways of disputing every trace of evidence pointing towards the _**possibility**_ of Tony Stark, notorious playboy, being _**in love with you**_. You consider dwelling on the matter, but resolve to sweep it beneath the rug of your thoughts, determined to let settle amidst the dust of disagreeable speculations. It's made remarkably easy when the elevator comes to a halt, and the doors slide open to reveal your two favourite super-soldiers, both slightly more ruffled in appearance than when you'd seen them earlier.

Bucky's usual, ever-present confident smile widens into a ' _ **I'm-mentally-undressing-you-dollface**_ ' fiendish grin. Teamed with his tousled mop of dark hair, 'come-hither' eyes and the 'Winter Soldier' attire-it's proving to be a potent aphrodisiac. Steve simply smiles in that innocent, boyish fashion that commands your loins to grind your body against his, to watch his cheeks glow, to see his pupils dilate and his lips part in wonder-struck anticipation. 

The second the two men step into the elevator, you can practically _**smell**_ the testosterone, thick enough to wade through, probably wreaking havoc on their exquisite bodies. Likewise, you suspect they can detect the hormones running amok within your own body. They don't elect to calm the onslaught of desire-if anything, they seem to be engaging in diabolical scheme to further fan the flames of your lust. Bucky is stood close enough to indicate that the notion of 'personal space' is of no concern to him. The way he holds his belt so _**damn sexily**_ , head cocked to one side as he lets his eyes travel down your body. Steve is leaning back against the elevator, hands comfortably clasping one another, legs stretched out somewhat, with one foot crossed over the other casually. When you turn to look at him, he has an expression that could honestly rival Bucky's own brazenly licentious one.

 

A few moments of comfortable silence follow their boarding the elevator, until you pipe up-

"You two enjoy your sparring?"

"Oh, we did-" Bucky casts a curiously wanton eye at his best friend, before continuing "-did you enjoy your _**meeting**_ with Stark?" He edges closer to you.

"That obvious, huh?" You gaze up at him.

"Uh huh. I can practically _**smell**_ sex on you, doll." Bucky purrs into your ear.

"Can you now?"

"Dirty girl..." He says. Suddenly reminded of the way he 'chastised' you yesterday, you feel a tingle of excitement low in your stomach.

"What was that?" You inquire, deliberately. The super-soldier leans in, his plush lips so close they could graze against your ear.

"Dirty. Filthy. Bad. Girl." He replies slowly, huskily, relishing every word.

"Am I really? Do I need to be punished, Bucky?"

"Thoroughly. Tell me, doll, did you put your panties back on while you were still _**wet**_?"

"I dunno. I was sat naked on a table with my legs open for quite a while-"

"Don't tease me!" Bucky implores through a stifled groan.

"I probably was. I suspect I am _**now**_. Why do you ask?" You ask, feigning innocence.

"I want your panties so fucking badly."

"Trying to get what you couldn't keep yesterday?"

"What d'you think?" He rallies with a devious smile.

 

You make a snap decision, and promptly begin tugging the hem of your skirt up.

"You're actually-?" Bucky sounds genuinely astonished.

"Yep." You blurt out, sliding your underwear down your legs, stepping out of them as gracefully as you'd done earlier. Making a show of bending over, with a skirt now not much longer than a belt, you pick up the garment. You hold your underwear up between a thumb and forefinger, wiggling them enticingly in front of the brunet.

"Oh my God..." He says, voice cracking.

"Enjoy, soldier." You chuckle, pressing them into his palm. Bucky accepts them eagerly as a junkie being handed the means for their next 'fix'.

"They _**are**_ still wet." He points out in a daze.

"Something tells me I'm not gonna see you for the next hour, Buck." Steve remarks in good humour. The elevator doors open to reveal your stunning office. Dragging the hem of your skirt back down, you prepare to bid the two super-soldiers farewell, but much to your surprise-Steve catches hold of your arm and tugs you towards him.

Your backside is pressed against his rock-hard groin and his delectably firm torso. He winds those magnificent arms around your body and says in the authoratative voice of _**Captain America**_ -

"Where's **_my_**   present, [Your Name]?"

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Captain?" You ask seductively, craning your head back to look at him. While his face is upside down from your point of view, it's still ridiculously handsome. You feel his manhood grow stiffer.

"I'm waiting." He tells you expectantly.

"Come and find your present, Captain." You answer coyly, setting your legs apart and hiking your skirt up yet again. Steve takes the fairly heavy hint, and slips his hand between your thighs. His fingers dabble between the slick, wet flesh of your lips.

 

"That's more like it, _**citizen**_. Nice and wet for your Captain, your patriotic paragon of justice?" His other hand carefully holds your jaw, tilting your head up.

"Mm-hmm." You hum contentedly. This answer, however, is apparently inadequate. Steve makes his dissatisfaction known by pushing his fore and middle finger inside your passage, to coast against your sensitive spot.

"Not good enough, citizen. _**Say it** _. Say, 'I'm wet for you, Captain'." He instructs.

"I-I'm wet for you, Captain." You repeat obediently, allowing your body to turn limp against his. Steve moves his other hand from your jaw, and down between your legs. He begins the deft ministrations against your clitoris, a wry smile pulling his mouth back when he hears your breath hitch, and your chest rise and fall with increasing irregularity.

"Say, 'I want you and Bucky to _**fuck**_ me till I'm squealing your names'."

"I...I w-want you and Bucky to....to fuck me till I'm squealing y-your names..." You parrot, already feeling the titilating shivers of an approaching orgasm deep in your core.

"Do you now? Well, we'll have to see about that. Maybe later?" Steve reverts to his gently-mannered self, removing his hands from you and returning the hem of your skirt to its rightful height.

"Are you kidding me?" You ask, nearly incensed.

"I don't remember telling a joke, [Your Name]." Steve acts as innocent as a choir boy being accused of stealing candy.

" _ **Pussy tease**_ !" You growl.

"That's not polite, [Your Name]." Steve's hands clutch at his belt, as he casts a reproachful eye at you. Despite this, you notice the tiniest glimmer of a smile. _**Gorgeous, sadistic fucker**_ , you internally seethe. "See you later, [Your Name]. Hopefully you'll be less antagonistic when we next see you." _**Oh no, no, he did not just say that**_ , you think.

"Stevie, you're gonna pay for that in some way or form, and it's probably going to end up in the most painful case of blue balls you've _**ever**_ had." Bucky pipes up, enraptured by the pair of underwear you gifted him with.

"I guess I'm gonna have to find that out for myself at some point. For now...you better get back to your paperwork, [Your Name]." The blond ushers you out of the elevator. You stare at him in incredulity. Even when the doors close soundlessly, you stare at the spot his face had been.

"That sexy bastard..." You mutter to yourself, now having to suffer the agony of denied sexual release and sticky thighs.

* * *

 

Managing to re-focus your distracted mind on work for several hours, you make an impressive dent in the piles of paperwork occupying your desk. Considering the nature of your distraction, you feel entitled to a moment of self-congratulation. Following a lunch break and several more hours of paperwork, you've approached the end of your very first day of employment at Stark Tower. With a great stretch and yawn to mark the last few minutes of your day's work, you swivel in your desk chair to gaze out onto the magnificent city-scape. You enjoy a few serene moments of drinking in the scenery before you.

Then comes the sound of the elevator doors-fast becoming familiar to you-opening.

"Y'know, I wish there was some kind of warning someone's going to be stopping by, because one day-" You start speaking, spinning around to face the elevator.

You don't expect to see Bucky, still in his Winter Soldier uniform, and donning his mask and heavy, black kohl. His eyes-the blue amidst the dark eye paint-are drilling into your own, unflinching.

"Hey, Bucky. Shouldn't you be off somewhere enjoying those undies I gave you, soldier." You tease kittenishly, but the super-soldier seem unaware of your words. He continues staring at you, like a lion catching sight of a vulnerable gazelle. "Bucky?" You ask tentatively. While he's clearly made progress, psychologically, in leaps and bounds from his 'Winter Soldier' days, you struggle to shake off that uncomfortable concern-

_**What if he's flipped? What if his HYDRA programming has suddenly kicked in?** _

Anxious, you rise from your seat, holding your hands up to show you possess no tool for defense. Edging around your desk, you reassure Bucky, "Hey, hey, it's alright, Bucky. I'm-I'm not a threat...I don't know how much of the programming has...has come back. But I promise, I'm not gonna try and do  _ **anything**_ stupid, or anything to harm you." 

The ex-assassin tilts his head to one side, eyes narrowing as if analysing you. He makes a direct beeline for you, striding forwards, no detectable emotion in his eyes.

 

"Whoa whoa whoa, Bucky, I said-I'm not a threat, I swear-" You panic, heart racing ten to the dozen, guts twisting into knots. He interrupts you, seizing hold of your arms and shoving you against your desk. The brunet meets your eyes and speaks in the guttural, oddly alluring language he must have so often had to speak. Not exactly a fluent Russian speaker, you open your mouth and shake your head, a small, soft croak replacing words to express your uncertainty.

"Go to the bedroom." He commands you. Intimidated, you nod and hurry towards the bedroom extension of your office. _**Am I going to be screwed by 'not-Bucky-but-the- Winter Soldier'**_ ? You contemplate. The very second you open the door, in a complete blur, you find yourself being pushed into the room and spun around, back slamming against the wall. The discomfort is only mild, it's the surpise-however-which makes you whimper. Bucky looks at you intently, your face likely a picture of trepidation. He pins your wrists against the wall, closing the space between you. His face is less than an inch away from yours, his kohl smeared eyes bore deep into yours. Steadily, his hands venture across your forearms and down your torso, taking time to etch the feel of every curve of your body into his memory. Thinking this to be a demonstration of tenderness, you move your hands to cradle his face.

Bucky's lightning reflexes see to it that your hands are, once more, pinned to the wall. He narrows his eyes and growls in Russian, words that bear no meaning in one sense-yet in another, you're fully aware he's admonishing you. The super-soldier resumes his caresses, rubbing your hips before squeezing your softer parts. Your mouth opens, in hope that he'll lean in, remove his mask and kiss you. Instead, he croons softly in snatches of Russian and German, cupping your cheek with his bionic hand and brushing his cold, metal thumb over your lower lip. Eyelids fluttering in relaxation, you find yourself leaning into his touch, the cool metal soothing against your warm skin.

That is, until he grasps your forearms, spins you around and shoves you- _ **yet again**_ -against the wall, the grainy texture of the painted plaster unpleasant against your cheek. He whispers things, in Russian, his tone urgent in your ear. Soon, Bucky breaks into English, to tell you-

"...you don't how much I've been thinking about you. How my dick felt in that warm, juicy pussy of yours, the way it felt when you came, those dirty moans and cries..."

"Bucky..." You keen, laying your palms flat on the wall. The ex-assassin growls in a language you can't quite identify, tugging at the zipper of your skirt and casting the garment onto the floor. He then pushes his crotch against your bare buttocks, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal, whilst dragging your top from your upper body. Impatiently, he unfastens and removes your bra. He abruptly steers you away from the wall and towards the bed. You, more or less, tumble onto the bed. Bucky-or perhaps, the _**Soldier**_ \- chuckles, and says something in Russian which you assume, from the lecherous fashion in which he speaks, is utterly filthy. Fortunately, he translates-

"You look ready to take a hard dick, dirty girl. I'll fill that sweet hole up, and fuck you senseless."

"Bucky!" You clamour. The super-soldier gets on to the bed, his dark, tangled hair swaying slightly, as he edges forward on his knees, unbuckling his belt with one hand.

"No. Not Bucky. _**Winter Soldier**_." He yanks the belt out of the belt hoops and edges toward you quicker. The Soldier is kneeling over you, your body trapped between his knees. He stares down at you, his hands moving to your own.

You feel the leather belt being wound around your wrists, binding your hands together.

"Bu- _ **Soldier**_...." You gasp, eyes widening at him. Your body trembles from a ferocious coupling of anxiety and excitement.

"Now you're mine to do with as I please, dirty girl." He tells you, his eyes the only form of emotional communication, as his mouth is still covered,and they were conveying a _**hunger**_. The super-soldier shuffles back, then places his hands on your knees, gradually separating your legs. With no warning whatsoever, the bedroom door is thrown open.

 

You shriek, gluing your legs together. The person standing in the doorway is simply Steve-donning his Captain America uniform, gloves and mask.

"Bucky." He says, in a calm, commanding voice. The ex-assassin twist his head around to give Steve a fleeting glance.

"Who the fuck is he?" Bucky snorts disparagingly.

"You know, Buck." Steve says tenderly, walking towards the bed. He stands at the side, barely looking at you, and slides a gloved hand beneath Bucky's jaw. "You're my best friend. I'm with you till the end of line, buddy. I care about you. Now-" His grip tightens on his best friend's jaw, "-show me how much you care about me." The blond tugs off the mask covering Bucky's beautiful mouth and throws it across the room, before stooping down to lock their mouths together in an ardourous embrace.

 _ **Well, fuck me, this is an interesting turn of events**_ , you gush internally.

Bucky cradles Steve's face, deepening their kiss. He grabs hold of the fabric of Steve's uniform and pulls him down on top of him, so they lie intertwined on the bed, still kissing. You wriggle around, into a seated position, to get a considerably better view.

Steve combs his hand through Bucky's thick, chocolate locks, while the brunet clutches at his friend's neatly cut and styled blond hair. Steve draws back, coaxing a desperate whimper from the ex-assassin, and gently laves his tongue over Bucky's plush lips and along his throat.

"Stevie..." Bucky whines, his flesh hand moving down to grasp and squeeze the blond's firm buttocks.

"I know you like this, Buck." Steve speaks to him as a lover would, rolling his pelvis against Bucky's crotch

"Oh my God..." You moan from the side-lines. The two men turn their head to gaze at you.

"Like what you see, [Your Name]?" Steve asks, lids lowered to cast his dangerously seductive 'come-hither' eyes at you, mouth crooking into some semblance of Bucky's trademark smirk.

"Uh huh..." You say, as words-at this point-are becoming tricky to form.

"Keep watching, doll-face." Bucky says, in a voice warm as cinnamon. He and Steve continue kissing, the blond grinding his hips slowly and surely, eliciting some hitched intakes of breath and indrawn hisses from Bucky.

"Less clothes..." The brunet insists. Steve chuckles, as the two men begin undressing one another. Before long, they're both shirtless, their perfect, muscular torsos pressed together as they lick and suckle one another's mouths affectionately. Bucky strokes his best friend/lover's back, fingers venturing along the dip of Steve's back.

"Wanna...wanna show you _**how much**_ I care, Stevie." He purrs.

"Mmm?" Steve hums delightedly

"Stand up. It'll make it easier."

 

You watch intently, as the blond super-soldier pushes himself off of the bed, and stands in front of Bucky-now sitting up, face level with the other man's groin.

 _ **Holy shit, is he gonna-?**_ You question yourself, but the answer arrives immediately. The ex-assassin unbuckles Steve's belt, at a teasingly slow pace, smiling up at Steve adoringly. The national icon regards Bucky with equal devotion, running his thick, tapered fingers through his hair. Before long, Bucky is easing the waistline of Steve's uniform pants down, exposing his V-line. The sight is decidedly erotic, made more so when the brunet licks each line of definition, eliciting a shiver and huff of laughter from the other man.

The ex-assassin finally liberates Steve's generous, tumescent length, already glistening with his excitement.

"Happy to see me and [Your Name], Stevie?" Bucky jokes.

"Shuddup, jerk." Steve breathes out, earning a mirthful snort from his best friend.

"Easily done when I have your cock in my mouth, punk." He quips raffishly, enveloping the head of Steve's member in his mouth, and bobbing his head up and down his length.

Words are beyond Steve, who settles to let out a long groan, fisting at Bucky's tousled hair. The ex-assassin takes hold of Steve's balls in his chilly bionic hand and fondles them at random intervals, earning a gasp as the blond doubles up each time. Bucky's delectable pout works Steve's foreskin at alternating speeds, paying close attention to the moans, the gasped whimpers and the loin-destroying yelps.

"Buck....Bu-u-u-c-k......oh God..." The super-soldier groans, his voice higher than usual. When Bucky pulls back, revealing Steve's length-shining with spittle and pre-come-the head red and swollen, and leaking so damn **obscenely** , you find yourself unable to suppress a tiny whimper.

"Still enjoying the show, doll?" Bucky winks salaciously at you, then pokes his tongue out to lap at Steve's wet slit, and lick a stripe up the underside of his member. The blond grips onto Bucky's shoulders, releasing a prolonged grunt. "Stevie loves that, something to keep in mind, darlin'." He remarks, enclosing his lips around Steve's head once more. The blond undulates his hips, thrusting into Bucky's mouth fervently. The brunett chuckles despite having Steve's impressive length filling his mouth, and continues stimulating the national icon's balls. Judging by the sweat trickling in beads down Steve's face and glorious pectoral muscles, he's fast approaching an orgasm. Watching him losing control is whole-heartedly magnificent. He's panting, at the mercy of his best friend's technique, groaning and grunting furiously.

"B-u-u-ck, gonna....gonna..." He warns his friend, who immediately removes his mouth from his member.

"We're giving [Your Name] _**something to watch**_." Bucky reminds Steve, who nods and makes vague noises of acknowledgement. Bucky-though his lips are the merest fraction of an inch away from Steve's head- replaces his mouth with his hand, jerking Steve off to bring his satisfying release.

"Gonna come on me, aren't ya, Stevie?" Bucky says, almost _**tauntingly**_ , as the other man pumps his member into his hand.

"Oh Christ, oh God, Christ, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...shit, oh, fuck..." The blond babbles senselessly, face stained scarlet, breathing shallow and rapid. He grabs handfuls of Bucky's hair in his fists and throws back his head, his Adam's apple jumping up with every exclaimation of pleasure.

Steve lets out a tremendous _**howl**_ of ecstacy, as several, thick white spurts of his seed are forced from his slit to paint Bucky's luscious mouth and chest. The blond super-soldier moans softly, stroking Bucky's glorious shaggy mane in the cathartic after-glow. Bucky glides his fingers across the beautifully carved landscape of Steve's abdominal muscles.

 

"Like that, Stevie?" His tone is that of quiet urgency.

"Whaddya think, Buck?" Steve toys, both as a dearest friend and passionate lover. "Now it's your turn. Want me to use my mouth or hand?"

"Maybe [Your Name] would like to decide?" Bucky turns his head slowly to look at you, still seated comfortably with your hands tied. The all-over bodily flush, wanton eyes and gawping expression are fairly unambiguous signs of your arousal. Both men smile, satisfied by your physical responses.

"Honestly...I don't mind. There's gonna be a wet patch on this quilt either way." You respond, slurring your words a little.

"Only a patch? Stevie, you better work some magic, I wanna see a fucking _**puddle**_ under [Your Name]." Bucky tells him enthusiastically.

"So what am I doing to you, Buck?" Steve inquires lovingly, caressing the brunet's cheek with the back of his finger.

"Actually, I gotta better idea. C'mere." Bucky gestures at the other man, signalling him to lower his head so he can whisper into his ear. Judging by the smile of sinful relish on Steve's face, Bucky's suggestion has gone greatly appreciated.

"I _**defintely**_   like that idea." Steve proclaims, standing straight and sauntering over to you. "I have a feeling you're gonna like even more." He lowers himself into a kneeling position on the bed, beside you, his erection returning in all its glory. Bucky rolls over onto his front and crawls forward, hair hanging down, with a few damp strands flicking from side to side, eyes staring at you with a wolf-like ferocity. Steve places his hand over your chest and pushes you back, so you lie flat on your back, but your knees still raised-the soaking heat between your legs now an exquisite parcel for either man to open. Bucky kneels in front of your closed legs, as he'd done earlier, gazing at you. A fleeting exchange of eye contact with Steve urges the national icon to gently raise your arms up, so your hands are pinned down to the pillow, above your head. Bucky parts your knees, and slowly spreads your thighs to give him unimpeded access.

"Jesus, Steve, she's fucking _**dripping**_ down here. It's all over her pussy _**and**_ thighs." He announces gleefully.

"Good. But we want her even wetter, don't we? Like you said, anything less than a puddle is unacceptable." Steve says in his intoxicatingly erotic stern 'Captain America voice'.

"Still here, fellas." You giggle, stirring on the bed, spreading your legs as far as you can. "Bucky, c'mon, I'm waiting. I _**need**_ you to do something, _**please**_..." You implore, undulating your hips, grinding them up into the air tantalisingly.

"Sounds like your cue, Buck..." Steve prompts his friend, fondling your breasts with his free hand, the other keeping your bound hands pinned above you.

"Okay, here goes, doll-" Bucky says, before immediately pushing his head between your legs.

 

The ex-assassin mouths at your drenched inner thighs, leaving behind smears of Steve's thick seed with your own juices. Straining your neck to look down at him, you watch him move his face, so his pouty mouth grazes your swollen lips. Your body shudders in response, earning a quick, smug look from the super-soldier. You let your head loll back and are met with the sight of Steve leaning down to kiss you deeply, tenderly...making you feel as if you're the only other person, besides Bucky, who he cares about. You revel in the softness of his lips and the way he seems to know, intuitively, how to change the angle of his head, the way in which he plunges his tongue into your mouth. You enjoy the heated embrace, until Bucky licks your soaking entrance and swipes his tongue from side to side over your lips. You find yourself gasping into the kiss, your chest heaving upward. Steve breaks the kiss, grinning impishly. The reason for which does not remain a mystery for long, as you soon realise he has decided to take advantage of your upthrust chest-closing his lips around the nearest nipple, and suckling on it lightly to set your nerve endings alight.

Bucky, in the meantime, has wasted no time in moving to your painfully engorged clitoris, flicking his tongue over it mercilessly-sending tingles, which soon turn to waves, of pleasure from your parts to the entirety of your body.

Steve has worked his way across to your other breast, showering it with affection. When his own tongue darts out, and snaps it across your nipple, the timing is such that it coincides with Bucky flicking and swirling the tip of his tongue around your sensitive clit. A needy moan passes your lips. In perfect synch, you feel the mouths of both men stretch into triumphant smiles.

"You like this, doll? Like what we're doing?" Bucky speaks softly, his breath warm on your parts.

"Yeah..." You reply mistily. The brunet kisses your clit, and proceeds to lave his tongue from your entrance, over your lips, returning to your swollen clitoris. Steve pulls his mouth from your hardened, shining nipple and quickly advises his friend-

"Suck her clit, Buck. She loves that."

"You're giving him pointers in the middle of-ohhh! _**Ahhh**_ !" You cry out, as Bucky's mouth encompasses your clitoris, rolling it delicately between his lips while suckling it unrelentingly.

"Were you saying something?" Steve asks.

"Uhhh..." Is the most you can reply with.

"Thought not." He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. You find yourself rolling your pelvis, sensually, against Bucky's mouth-as you'd done with Steve yesterday. Several, sudden, sharp exhales of breath through-what you assume to be Bucky's nose-indicate the super-soldier has been thoroughly aroused by your action. It's evident the ex-assassin is helpless to resist, as you hear him fumbling around, as though he's trying to shove the waistline of his cargo pants down, which means either one of two things-

He will either try and fuck you, or he intends to jerk off like he had done when watching Steve go down on you.

You don't really care which one he does. It's a win-win scenario both ways.

 

The orgasm building in your loins is suddenly brought considerably closer when you hear the slick, wet sounds of Bucky sliding his fist up and down his hard length, furiously. With his mouth still tending to you with unwavering effort, his grunts are throaty, stifled, the shaky breaths huffing out through his nose. Steve resumes his deft tongue flicks across your nipples-sometimes enveloping each one at the base, his lips brushing your puckered areolae, before sliding his mouth up steadily and releasing each one with a damp whispering pop. You badly want to reach out and touch the super-soldier, to tease him and pleasure him. You beg desperately-

"Steve, please, untie my wrists. I wanna do something-"

"Dunno if I can." He replies.

"Please! I want to _**touch**_ you!"

"Where, [Your Name]?" The national icon quizzes you seductively.

"You'll find out if you untie my hands, Captain." You purr silkily. Steve seems to consider this, which is agonising when your orgasm is drawing dangerously close, not helped by Bucky's fierce grunts and groans, and the erotic sounds of his hand pumping away at his member.

"Alright, then, [Your Name]." Steve hurriedly unties the belt and flings it over the edge of the bed carelessly. With a speed rivalling that of the two super-soldiers, your hands darts down and out to grasp Steve's exposed, wet length. His girth fills your curled fist snugly.

"[Your Name]!" He gasps. You begin working his head, sliding the foreskin back and forth, up and down his solid, thick member-aided by his slippery pre-come. " _ **Christ**_..." He wheezes, his hand gripping your breast tightly. Your other hand goes to the back of his neck, dragging his head back down so the two of you can lock mouths ravenously. However, with tidal waves of your approaching release crashing over your body ruthlessly, you mewl into the hot embrace of Steve's lips. The overload of stimulus is verging on unbearable. The raging heat, the perspiration and the deadly cocktail of hormones. Steve's warm, throbbing length in your hand, his slit leaking constantly, so you keep swiping your thumb over his head to spread his juices. Bucky's tongue lapping at your clitoris and womanhood, teamed with his hitching breath as he masturbates vigorously; the sounds of fist gliding over his member, a wet, low slapping echoing through the room mingling with the animalistic grunts, muffled groans and keening whines of you all. Steve starts thrusting into your hand, as he'd done with Bucky. You suddenly become aware that it's not simply a quirk of his, or a way of drawing his release nearer. It's _**primal instinct**_ , his body taking control as his mind drifts into a euphoric bliss.

When you can hear growls and wheezing breaths from Bucky, you _**know**_ he's about to come. Expeditiously, you break away from Steve's mouth to say, unintelligibly-

"B-Buck-y...wanna watch you come...sit up...I'll fi-finish my-myself off, baby...."

"Sure?" Bucky takes his mouth away from your parts, squeezing your thigh gently with his bionic hand.

"Uhhh..." You grunt in response, slipping your free hand down between your legs to start the ministrations on your clit. You try raising your upper body to take in the glorious sight of the ex-assassin getting himself off, but with all the physical constitution of jelly in your hormone-fuelled, 'blitzed-out' state, you fall down. Steve offers a helping arm, propping you up into a comfortable sitting position. The small wait was _**absolutely**_ worth it.

Bucky is a sinful mess; hair hanging in damp tassels, his kohl smeared badly, black smudges staining his cheeks, open mouth shining with spit, _**Steve's come**_ , and your juices. His chest is heaving out and sinking in with every deep breath. His flesh hand is working in a flurry of motion over his erection, the head engorged, his balls looking full. He looks ready to _**burst**_. The tension between your legs, at your core, is becoming agonising, the walls of your passage are _**howling**_ to be granted the mercy of release, to clench and ease you of your tension in the most intensely pleasurable sensation of all. A hasty peek at Steve's member very nearly tips you over the edge, but instead you look back to Bucky, clamping your walls down to force the orgasm into brieg submission. You  **want** to orgasm _**with him**_.

Barely able to contain your release, you begin crying out and pleading with Bucky, as though he's somehow _**denying**_   you the relief you crave. Your chest goes rigid, breath being held back by anticipation, your legs seize, thigh muscles contracting almost painfully as you endure the tortorous yet wonderful high of plateau. The ex-assassin practically _**stares into the depths of your soul**_ as continues masturbating, watching you thrown your inhibitions away, damn near butting the side of your head into the crook of Steve's neck and shrieking like a rampant cat in heat. A loud hiss, of what could be pain or pleasure-perhaps both?-escapes from Steve's mouth. In your now- vicious grip, Steve thrusts urgently, with those wonderful little yelps.

"Need me to blow my load, huh, baby-doll?" Bucky asks, manging to sound coherent, somehow.

"YES!" You yell.

"What's the magic word, doll-face?" The super-soldier leers, tormenting you.

"FUCKING _**PLEASE**_!" You wail. The sight is utterly spectacular-

 

Creamy, pearl-coloured strands of come are pushed from the tip of Bucky's penis, spattering the quilt, your parts, some oozing and dripping thickly over his fingers. His member and balls flutter very slightly with the contractions of his orgasm. His mouth hangs open wider for a moment, as he lets out a heaving, satisfied sigh. A warbling, high-pitched moan is dragged from you by the pounding of your walls, clamping down in an intense release. Peering down, mind completely blown from the rush of endoprhins, you see Steve's orgasm overwhelming him as he coats your hand-and a small portion of your stomach-in a warm, sticky release.

Tiredly, you curl up against Steve-still kneeling beside-and loll your head against his shoulder. The national icon holds you, warm arms keeping you from tumbling back onto the bed.

"Did you like that, [Your Name]?" He inquires, voice deep and soothing.

"Mmm-hmm." You reply sleepily. Despite being drenched in sweat, your own juices and both Bucky and Steve's seed, you could happily snuggle up in bed with the two super-soldiers to drift into slumber.

"Wanna clean up? You'll feel fresher." Bucky suggests.

"Sounds good. Pity we didn't get to do more. I thought you two were gonna screw me hard." You say, eyelids drooping.

"Who says we weren't, doll?" Bucky smirks. Your eyes shoot open.

"What?"

"Darlin', that was just the foreplay. We haven't even got to the main event, yet."

" _ **That**_ was _**foreplay**_?" You ask, eyes widening.

"Yeah. What? You think that's the most me and Stevie were gonna do to you?" Bucky feigns offense.

"Umm..."

"Stevie, [Your Name] thought some oral and jerking off was _**all**_   we could manage-"

"That's not good." Steve shakes his head sadly.

"After yesterday, I thought you'd hold us to higher standards, [Your Name]. I'm hurt, I really am. Stevie, y'know what this means, don't ya?"

"We have to show this sceptical citizen exactly what two super-soldiers can do." Steve declares firmly. You stare in amazement at the both of them.

"Damn right, Stevie. So, [Your Name]. What say we have a nice, hot bath, huh?"

"A bath-?"

"Mmm. I can think of ways to make it even more enjoyable...."

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed, you folks enjoyed this chapter and weren't horribly disappointed :') I swear, this is the most hardcore chapter I've ever written.... 
> 
> In which case, part two is going to uncover the truly dark, sordid depths of my mind.... :o
> 
> Yay!!! ^.^


	3. Definitely One To Get Between Two Friends-Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for keeping you folks waiting. Things have been going pretty haywire recently, so I haven't had an opportunity until now to write this chapter. And I have to admit, this one has really tired me out :s I think this is the longest one I've ever written....
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoy this, and it proves to be a, um, satisfying 'part two' to the last chapter! ^.^
> 
> It's quite heavy in dialogue, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that doesn't affect the 'mood' ^.^

Regardless of your earlier surprise, being sat on Bucky's naked lap in a hot bath is, you ascertain, a tremendously comfortable position. The super-soldier is reclined against the curved back of the tub, legs stretched out so his toes touch the taps. You, too, are in a similar position, with your back is pressed to Bucky's damp chest and stomach. His broad shoulder acts as a crude pillow for your head, as you nestle up to him. The temperature of the water, the steadily rising wisps of steam and the sedate pace of Bucky's chest rising and falling with each breath relax you. With an arm bent back, you start lazily twirling a damp lock of his dark hair around your finger and stroking his cheek with the middle knuckle of your forefinger.

"So, the whole thing with Steve...is that...for real?" You query him. Bucky's chest sinks in momentarily as he emits a single chuckle.

"For real, doll." His metal fingertips trace indiscernible shapes on the underside of your bent arm. A small shiver courses through your body despite the heat of the water.

"Ooo. That's hot." You say candidly. Bucky laughs, a beautiful, honeyed rasping sound.

"I value your honestly, [Your Name]."

"Anytime, babe." You reply. "Is it a recent thing or-?"

"Since the forties. We had to keep it very low-key, obviously. People back then were...not so open-minded."

"Wow. I never would have guessed. I mean, you seemed like best friends, but that's it. Y'know, you don't have to stay quiet about it anymore, Bucky."

"Oh, we know, doll. It's just, maybe we got used to being inconspicuous about it? I don't really know. Plus Stark would make a huge deal about it, probably get a mariachi band singing and playing through New York-"

"Tony really does have an affinity for mariachi bands." You recall fondly. "I'm sorry you feel, kinda, stuck in time about you and Steve."

"Don't be, [Your Name]. For the time being we might be, but I'm hoping we can overcome that. I _**do**_ want to be able to hold him and kiss him in public, have people know 'Damn right, this incredible punk is all mine'-and not still feel like it's a _**dirty secret**_." Bucky confides in you.

"You two couldn't be more perfect for one another." You assure him, smiling cordially at the super-soldier.

"Thanks, doll." He says, evidently warmed by your words.

 

"If you don't mind me asking, does this mean you're bisexual?"

"I thought that to start with, actually. I found women attractive at first, physically and sexually, and then I felt those same things with other men. Mainly Stevie. At first, I was disgusted with myself-our era didn't exactly teach positive attitudes towards sexualities that were seen as 'abnormal'. Then I realised, the problem wasn't with _**me**_ , it was with society. Backstory aside, I heard more about people like me, people who 'liked to swing both ways'. Labelled myself as one of 'em, as _**bisexual**_. Same goes for Stevie, when I found out he was like me too." He pauses.

"Fast forward seventy years, I discovered it was okay to be open about it, to be true to yourself. Y'know,  it was one of the first things I researched when I figured out how to use the internet. I learnt so much, including the whole thing about sexuality not being categorical, but more like a  **spectrum** . Realised that I'm not _**completely**_ bisexual, that I'm more inclined towards women, in general, than men. So instead of being a perfect fifty-fifty, I'm more of a sixty five-thirty five."

"So you're between bi and hetero?"

"Guess you could say that."

"You're **betero** sexual." You confirm, winning a smirk.

"I like that. It's got a ring to it." Bucky says, planting a kiss on your neck and running his metal hand along your thigh. His flesh hand cups your breast and massages it, his palm brushing over the softened bud of your nipple. With his continuing stimulation, it hardens at his tender caress.

"Mmm, Bucky, that feels so good..." You groan, letting your head fall back. The ex-assassin sweeps his bionic hand over your inner thigh, and lets his forefinger trace over the slight crease of the juncture between your thigh and pelvis- _ **deliberately**_   ignoring your parts. Those cool, smooth metal digits travel up your stomach, over your other breast and linger on your exposed throat. Fingertips drift over the warm skin, before being combed through your hair, massaging your scalp.

"Oh, Bucky..." You sigh contentedly. He hangs his head down, to smatter sweet, soft kisses on your cheek and neck. That sinful tongue of his pokes out to lick your flesh sporadically , as though you were a scoop of sumptuous ice cream to be savoured on a summer's day. With a tiny growl, you push yourself up and make an abrupt manoeuvre- so you're straddling Bucky's lap, facing him. A hubristic smirk plasters that comely face of his, a few wet locks of his hair obscuring it  _ **stylishly**_. The khol around his eyes, and the stains of the sexual antics that took place, have long since been washed away in the bathwater. Now you find yourself in awe of his features-the dusted rose tint of his pouty lips, the beautiful shimmer in those blue-grey irises, the little dimple on his chin, and the thick, glossy chestnut locks of his hair-the ends just skimming his shoulders.

 

"Jeez, Bucky...you probably get told this a lot, but you are seriously freaking gorgeous."

"I've been told, but it's always nice to hear. Especially from a beauty like yourself, darlin'. Thank you." He chucks you under the chin affectionately, before letting the gaze of his eyes wander down to your breasts. "Can't ignore these _**beauties**_." He adds lewdly.

"Aren't you gonna touch them? You were before." You cock your head to one side, inquistively. Bucky continues staring at them-

"I want to. But I'm kind of liking just looking at them-thinking how badly I'd love to squeeze them and get my mouth on them, and then denying myself." He explains.

"Ineresting you should say that-" You begin, peering up at him through lowered lids "-because I'm _**feeling**_ your hard-on right now, and thinking how much I want to touch it, slide myself onto it and ride it until I'm a delirious, gibbering, sexually satisfied wreck. Should I _**deny**_ myself, Bucky?" You ask, feigning innocent uncertainty, shrugging your shoulders up. The super-soldier's eyes widen in glee.

"No, hell no! Self-indulgence all the way, darlin'!" He contradicts himself with little hesitation-so much so, you're unable to hold back a burst of laughter.

"Well, that's good, because I don't like denying myself something I _**enjoy having**_..." You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone of erotic urgency, grasping his solid length under the reflective surface of bath water. Bucky vocalises a shuddering gasp, You meet his lips, swallowing a small moan in the embrace. You raise yourself up, shuffle forward, not breaking eye contact with the ex-assassin for a single second before unhurriedly lowering yourself onto his member. You watch his metal fingers clutch at the side of the bath, leaving indentations. His head falls back and he emits an appreciative groan.

"Christ on Earth, you feel so _**fucking**_ amazing..." He praises you. You lean in closer, planting a demure kiss on his neck, having relished the satisfying stretch as his length was encompassed by your passage; the brief stimulation of nerve endings sending a tingle through your body, all the way to your toes.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah, baby-doll?"

"Can I fuck you while you wear the mask?" You ask, in a sweet, diminuitive voice that somewhat contrasts with the request you've made. The super-soldier lifts his head to look at you, expression revealing of slight astonishment. For a moment, you seriously think you've overstepped some boundary. Your concerns are promptly put to rest when you're rewarded with a glorious, crooked grin-

"I knew it. I knew you had a kink for the Winter Soldier get-up, I fuckin' _**knew it**_. Hell yes, I'll put the mask on, doll. _**Steve**_! _**Steve**_!" Bucky hollers in the direction of the bathroom door.

" _ **Buck**_?" You hear from the bedroom.

" _ **Can you bring in my mask, baby-doll**_?"

" _ **Sure**_!" The other super-soldier calls back. In little to no time at all, Steve enters the bathroom, Bucky's mask in hand. "For you-" The blond says, kneeling down to press a kiss on his lover's perfect mouth. "And this is for you-" He turns to push his lips against yours, prodding your lower lip with his tongue as if soliciting your permission to push it into your mouth. You part your lips, giving him access, so your tongues meet eagerly.

"Mmm mmm, that's what I like to see." Remarks Bucky, his voice distorted by the mask...

 

It's as though a transformation has taken place; the soft yet angular features of Bucky's features, the full, pouting lips and the unusually delicate structure of his nose, with its 'button-ish' tip-have all been concealed, leaving the piercing, soul-gripping blue eyes, the pale forehead and the wonderfully untidy mop of dark hair, those wet strands dangling around his face. With his flesh arm draping over the edge of the bath, casually, as his metal arm rests comfortably on the section joining the tub to the wall, his eyes observing you intently, his damp pectoral muscles rising and falling with steady breaths-Bucky looks ridiculously, 'ovary-destroying-ly' sexy. You clench your walls around his length in the sudden excitement. His calm, confident composure falters by the merest fraction, his eyelids fluttering-an action  _ **barely noticeable**_ \- when he feels you tighten around him.

"Oh my God..." You say.

"He does look incredible with the mask on, doesn't he?" Steve notes. Bucky doesn't offer a sly retort or lascivious quip, but instead, simply settles on allowing his eyes to move to cast a sideways glance at the blond.

"He does..." You agree dreamily.

"Is he inside you right now?" Steve inquires, his own blue irises locking your eyes with an intense gaze that brings a blush to your cheeks. A coy smile is all the confirmation he requires, as he dips his hand into the water. You watch closesly, as his hand seems to venture down Bucky's abdomen- as you see the brunet shiver- into the thicket of his dark pubic hair. As the vague shape of Steve's hand in the water seems to vanish, and you hear soft utterance in Russian from Bucky, you assume Steve is touching the remaining length of Bucky's member.

"Wish I could see how Bucky's beautiful dick stretches your perfect little pussy, [Your Name]." He remarks wistfully. Long gone are your days of believing Steve to be innocent and virtuous. The national icon is clearly a master of deception, capable of disguising the inner raging, sexual fiend with a cover of boyish, pure-minded charm. "Guess I'll have to settle on _**feeling**_ it." Steve adds, his forefinger moving to trace around your stretched entrance.

"Ahh..." You gasp, as his digit quests over your swollen, spread lips, wet with your yearning.

"Nice and wide, gaping for his cock. Just what I was hoping for." Steve tells you, never leaving yours. Your mouth opens in anticipation, as his finger travels in a steady pattern; over your wet lips and around your stretched opening. The coil of an approaching orgasm tightens in your loins.

"And what about when you clench around his dick? D'you like seeing the way he reacts?" The super-soldier asks, drifting his fingertip over your engorged clitoris, causing your walls to clamp down briefly. Bucky, as expected, lets his head fall back again, taking a huge gulp of air before his stomach tenses in the heat of excitement.

"Fuck him, [Your Name]. I want to watch you ride him like you rode me in the back of your car. Captain's orders." Steve dicatates firmly. Disobeying is the _**absolute**_ last thing on your mind.

 

You lean toward Bucky, circling your arms around his neck. He wraps his own around your waist, drawing you ever closer to his firm body, his heat seeping through you. The ex-assassin fakes an air of relative apathy, his eyes regarding you with the barest minimum of interest. You know this to be false, simply from the twitch of his erection-still in the hot depths of your passage- and the dilated, jet black pools of his pupils. Try as he might, the super-soldier is incapable of successfully playing the role of the cold, indifferent Winter Soldier.

But you're really not that bothered about the details at this point.

You rest your forehead on Bucky's shoulder, and slowly comb your fingers- from the base of his skull- through his tangled, gleaming dark hair. The first sensual roll of your hips is unhurried, brimming with tender passion-and sends mere ripples through the bath water. The bundles of nerves between your legs send stupendously gratifying currents of pleasure through you. A stifled keening slips from Bucky's masked mouth. Moving the hand-previously brushing Bucky's hair-to the mask, you cup his jaw, your thumb dragging over where his soft, plump lower lip would be. You pull back to relish the ever-more noticeable cracks in his roleplaying facade. With your other hand now clutching the side of the bath to aid in building momentum , you undulate your hips; savouring every stimulating glide of his hard member against your passage, the heavenly nudging of your G-spot with his head, the sense of satisfaction every time his penis fills you to the hilt, connecting you both in the one of the _**many**_   ways nature intended.

"Good. Fuck him. Ride his cock. Make him whine for you, [Your Name]." Steve offers his husky commentary. With almost comically perfect timing, Bucky lets out a plaintive moan, his hands massaging your rocking hips.

"Mmm, Bucky..." You croon, bath water sloshing back and forth in rythmn with every undulation of your pelvis. Beads of sweat course down your face to merge with droplets of water on your skin, as the hot beat of your blood and the swelling ecstacy send your mind into a blissful euphoria yet simultaneously, instill you with an overwhelming  _ **need**_ to relieve the tension, to be filled with Bucky's seed. Your hands fly to his arms, clinging on to flesh and metal biceps, as you grind more vigorously-desperate to swallow up his length, repeatedly, with your passage. The ex-assassin, as if intuitively, starts to thrust his groin upward-the eyes of the 'Winter Soldier' nailing you with an impenetrable stare. You have no clue as to whether his mouth is twisted into a sly smirk, hanging open in pleasurable anticipation or, hell, even set in a firm, straight line.

"Feel good, [Your Name]?" Steve inquires from the side, now-you only just notice-palming his manhood through a pair of snug-fitting boxer shorts.

"Uuuhh." You 'eloquently' reply. Bucky's hands cup and squeeze your buttocks, as he issues a few declarations of pleasure in Russian.

"Gonna come soon?" Steve palms his erection with fervency.

"Oh fuck yes!" You cry.

"Then you're coming with me." Steve announces, standing up and hoisting you out of the bath with no sign of physical exertion whatsoever.

 

Being both denied climax and Bucky's length, you flail in Steve's strong hold, protesting bitterly.

"You asshole! You bastard! I was gonna come! I was so fucking close! You motherfucker!" You unleash a torrent of foul language on the national icon-who seems completely unaffected. You don't actually bear any animosity towards Steve, you're simply frustrated at having been _**so close**_ to orgasm, but then dragged away from satisfying release.

"Hold on for a sec, [Your Name]." Steve speaks placatingly into your ear, carrying you back into the bedroom.

"Hold on for what? I was _**this close**_ to getting off and you-" Your sentence is cut short when you feel yourself being pinned to the bed-your water soaked body drenching the quilt.

"Hands above your head." Steve orders, holding himself up above you. His handsome face is set into the stony composure of Captain America. You tentatively raise your arms.

"Now spread your legs."

"Steve..." You utter softly, parting your damp legs to expose your wet womanhood. The corner of Steve's mouth stretches up into a prideful smile.

"Look at that. Wet for your Captain. Desperate for some cock, aren't you?" Steve draws back, pushing himself up off the bed. You stare at him, rendered speechless. The national icon guffaws at your reaction, warning you lightly-

"Don't leave that pretty mouth open for too long, I might decide to make use of it"

"Steve." Your vocabulary has suddenly been limited to his name.

"I'm gonna give you what you _**need**_." The blond tugs the waistband of his boxer briefs down, revealing his solid length. He pushes the item of clothing down his legs, picks them up and tosses them over his shoulder carelessly. Steve soon returns to the bed, shuffling forward, so he's kneeling between your legs.

"I'm on top this time, [Your Name]. I'm in charge. I'm going to make every other fuck you've had with a regular guy seem like a weak fingering session." He nearly snarls, lifting your legs up so your knees rest on his shoulders, touching either side of his head. Your calves and feet are left dangling against his back.

"Yeah?" You smile wryly at him.

"Damn right. See, you probably thought-before today-Bucky was the dirty one, the aggressive one out of the two of us. Honestly though, he's practically an angel in comparison to me. I'm disgusting. I'm depraved. I'm a complete _**fucker**_. Nobody would believe you if you told them, though, not with my choir-boy act. That's the beauty of it. This can be our filthy secret, [Your Name]. Nobody will ever suspect that the upholder of justice, the chaste, morally incorruptible Captain America was drilling your soaking pussy, making you beg for his serum-boosted dick or even talking to you like _**this**_."

"You gonna _**keep**_ talking? Or are you gonna _**fuck me**_ , Captain?" You challenge him, panting excitedly at the prospect of being given a thorough 'seeing-to' by Captain America. Steve's eyes narrow and his mouth curls, leering at you, before plunging his hard length into your passage, which had been clamouring to be occupied with Steve's sizeable manhood.

 

Involuntarily, your back arches up at the sudden penetration and a groan escapes you. You clutch at the quilt, as Steve-true to his word- **rams** into you. With one hand gripping your waist, and the other positioned so he can stimulate your clitoris with his finger-he has an unwavering air of sexual confidence. He looks at you at odd intervals, a strangely erotic glint of danger in those azure eyes of his. His powerful, driving thrusts have you completely at his mercy.

"You like that?" Steve asks gruffly, the sound of his balls slapping against you a deliciously obscene background noise.

"Yeah." You moan, tipping your head back, submitting yourself to raw, hedoinistic satisfaction.

"Tell me how much you like it." His ministrations on your clit are at the perfect speed and pressure, and the head of his member is -not simply nudging-but _**slamming**_ against your G-spot. The orgasm you believed you'd lost quickly returns, its build-up working its glorious magic upon your loins, the coil of sumptuous tension being stretched in your very core. .

"I fucking _**love it**_!" You mewl.

"Who's giving it to you? Shout it for me."

" _ **Steve!**_ " You yell.

"Uh-uh, not quite." He reprimands you gently.

" _ **Captain!**_ " You shriek at the top of your lungs. Steve growls animalistically, pounding at you tirelessly.

"Yell it again!" Steve commands firmly.

" _ **CAPTAIN!**_ " You scream. The national icon flashes a lopsided grin at you, reaching back with both hands to grab your ankles. He lowers your legs, the soles of your feet placed flat on the quilt, and changes his position-keeping himself suspended above you, hands laid out either side of your head. Steve, throughout, doesn't stop thrusting into you for a single second. You savour his heat, his solid manly weight pressing down on you, the feel of his pelvis rolling back and forth between your thighs-as he slides his length in and out. Each time he returns his member deep within your loins, it feels akin to being given the greatest gift you could image-over and over again.

 

"Mmm, that's better. I get to see you up close now." He purrs, pressing his mouth to yours. After stealing sweet, tender kisses from you, you briefly draw your lips from his.

 "Captain..." Your tone of voice close to a whine, wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel his muscles contract and relax with every pump of his crotch, before hearing a satisfied rumbling groan in his chest-

"[Your Name]...oh God..." He moans. You fist at a clump of his golden hair, whimpering and sighing quietly as Steve has you hanging by a thread over the descent into raw, unbridled pleasure. With the simultaneous stimulation of your clitoris and G-spot, and the beautiful sound of Steve's guttural groans and grunts, the intensity of your approaching release is going to be of, you predict, Armageddon-like proportion.

"Steve...Steve...fu-uck...ughh...S-S-Steve f-fuck...ughh feels good..." You babble, and are rewarded with a triumphant smile from the national icon, who continues thrusting into you as though the fate of the world depends on it.

"So you like my dick? Makes you feel great, doesn't it?" He questions wryly, as if you haven't already made that fact glaringly obvious.

"Ughhh....uh huh..." You nod, eyelids drooping ** _._** "I love your dick inside me, Captain." You say, managing to form a coherent sentence.

"Oh, what was that?"

"I love your dick inside of me, Captain!" You repeat, louder, voice breaking under the strain of being close to orgasm.

"I can tell. So, are you going to come for me? Nice and loud? I want to watch that beautiful face you make when you come and feel you tighten up around me." He tells you hotly.

"I will. Long as you yell for me when you come."

"Don't you worry about that, [Your Name]. I'll make sure everyone in a one mile radius knows how fucking incredible you make me feel." Steve vows.

"Good..."

"Gonna come for me?" Steve encloses you in his arms, lowering his body, so you feel his perspiring skin sticking to yours with every inward thrust, and peeling away as he draws himself out.

"Unghhh..." You tip your head back, mouth parting so your panting becomes audible, preparing to shriek in frenzied ecstacy.

"Ready?" Steve goads you playfully.

" _ **Steve**_!" You bark.

"If you insist!" He remarks teasingly, before pounding into you with such ferocity, your G-spot is subjected to catalytic stimulation, triggering a sensation that has you mentally propelled from Earth's surface into a whole other world. You yowl uncontrollably, back snapping up into an arch, as several shudders travel through your body. Steve, as promised earlier, unleashes a bellow of orgasmic delight, filling you with several, warm spurts of his release.

 

Basking in the tranquil after-glow, you find yourself staring drowsily at the ceiling, breathing heavily. Steve turns his face, to press his cheek against the softness of your chest, his pelvis still rolling sedately, humping at you lazily. You comb a hand through his ruffled blond hair, lifting your head and craning your neck forward so you can place a delicate kiss on the top of his head.

"Are you feeling okay?" The sweet-natured Steve Rogers returns, stroking your shoulder.

"Better than okay." You say, with a fleeting incredulous look.

"I'm glad."

"You seem...docile." You remark.

"Hmm?"

"Compared to the raging, sexual fiend who was ' _ **drilling**_ ' me just before."

"Oh. Right." Steve says, almost bashful. "Yeah, that's a thing that happens. When I get especially...worked up."

"Like in the elevator earlier on?"

"Yep." He nods, burying his cheek further into the space between your breasts.

 "Ah. Wait, hang on-" You hold your index finger up in mid-air- "What about yesterday? I got you pretty worked up in the car. You didn't turn into a sex demon then?"

"I talked dirty!" He counters.

"That was _**nothing**_ compared to today."

"Okay, well, maybe- _ **just**_ **maybe** -having Bucky around...gives me a... _ **boost**_." Steve admits.

"He brings out confidence in you?"

"I guess he does, yeah." The tone of Steve's voice reveals the depth of his ardour for Bucky.

"That's adorable." You say. The blond raises his head, with an almost comical expression of confoundedness.

"Adorable? _**Adorable**_?"

"Yes, adorable."

"You two are so _**adorable**_." A familiar, husky voice commentates from the open bedroom doorway.

 

"Jesus, Bucky! What the fuck?!" You take fright at the sudden presence. "How'd you-I didn't even hear you!" The nude, mask-less brunet chuckles at your panic, swaggering into the room languidly.

"Doll, I'm an ex-assassin, remember? Sneaking up on people is my forte. Comes in useful a surprising amount-"

"What he means to say is, comes in useful for watching me have some 'alone time'-" Steve interrupts.

"Judging by the way you put on a nice show, I doubt you're unaware of me being there, Stevie." Bucky retorts smoothly.

"You may good at sneaking up on people, Buck, but I'm good at knowing if people are sneaking up on me." Steve rallies seductively.

"Oo, touche." Bucky slides a metal hand over Steve's bare back. The blond props himself up on one arm, twists around and snatches hold of Bucky's bionic hand.

"Get that perfect butt over here, _**Sergeant**_." He drags the other man down, their faces now level, so they can embrace passionately.

"As flattered as I am, I have to admit, you've got the perfect butt outta the two of us. Why'd you think so many folks are keen on that tight costume of yours, Cap?"

"So many folks...including you?"

"'Course." Bucky flashes a dazzling smile at his best friend and lover, before crushing their lips together ardently.

"Don't leave me out, fellas." You complain without conviction. You see a glint of devilish glee in Bucky's eyes as he grins jaggedly at you.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Stevie, if you wouldn't mind-?" Bucky gestures for Steve to roll off of you, so he can clamber on top of your body-which is trembling with excitement.

 

The ex-assassin mouths hungrily at your jaw, your neck and, most delightfully, your breasts. He slips his flesh hand beneath your knee, hoisting your leg up so your inner thigh is held against his waist. Just as you begin to surrender yourself to his eager kisses, a swift roll on the bed finds you, now, both disorientated and _**on top**_ of Bucky.

"Gimme your best, darlin'." Bucky encourages, hands rubbing at your thighs and butocks, with Steve, watching avidly, beside him. You sit up, back straight, straddling him comfortably-taking a moment to consider your next move. An idea springs to mind, and you offer Bucky your most alluring (and sexually manipulative) smile. You gently prise the ex-assassin's hands from your hips, and rest them on his taut, toned abdomen. You then take his flesh hand, and carefully pull it towards your womanhood. A knowing smile creeps onto Bucky's enchanting face, probably anticipating a drawn-out fingering session. However, you have something else _**entirely**_ in store for both him and Steve.

You move his hand over your slick parts, your eyes never leaving his, making sure his fingers are soaked with your wetness.

Slowly, you raise his hand to your mouth.

Here is the moment the 'game-changer' occurs, when the cocky smile on Bucky's face fades, his expression becoming genuine surprise.

At an agonisingly unhurried pace, you open your mouth and insert Bucky's finger-coated in your own juices-before gradually closing your mouth and sucking his finger. The fact that such a move has warranted a look of ecstatic wonder on Bucky's face is reward enough. Steve looks utterly enthralled. The sour, yet not unpleasant, taste of Bucky's skin and your wetness floods your mouth. You look at him and Steve with 'come hither' eyes, as you slide your pursed mouth from his finger, and tease the tip with your tongue.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Bucky exclaims.

You move onto his middle finger, sliding into your mouth and granting it the same attention, before dragging your tongue along it's length-groaning quietly as you do so.

"Wow..." Steve breathes out, shaking his head in disbelief. To counter-act the sour tang of flesh, you lovingly take Bucky's bionic hand into your own, raise it to your mouth-as you had done with his flesh hand-and diminiutively suck and nibble the tip of his index finger, the cold, metallic flavour cleansing your palette. You spend the next few minutes alternating between a flesh finger and a metallic finger, sometimes gliding the fingertip over your lips, sometimes lapping thirstily at the digit with your tongue. Bucky looks like he's just taken a First Class flight to heaven, his face lit up in glee. Steve appears eager to ravish both you and the brunet lying next to him. You remove Bucky's digit from your mouth, taking both of his hands into your own-and begin easing them down, so they're resting over your breasts. Guiding his hands in steady circles over them, you provide yourself with a stimulation that rushes to the aching heat between your thighs.

 

"C'mere, doll." Bucky beckons gently, and you respond compliantly-taking his hands from your chest and placing them on his own stomach, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on the back of his metal hand. You shuffle forward, laying your own hands on his chest and lean forward-yet again-to kiss him on his perfect, petal-soft lips. The ex-assassin's arms wrap around your upper body, bringing you closer-until you're effectively lying on top of him, breasts cushioned against his pectoral muscles, your knees still spread-on either side of his pelvis-in a straddling position. It may not be entirely comfortable, but if maintaining this position with Bucky for a little longer means sacrificing the fortitude of your back muscles for a few days, you'll gladly accept the mild discomfort.

Steve sits up gradually, shuffling closer to you. A large, warm hand touches your back and follows the curvature of your spine, before gently rubbing and squeezing your buttocks. This action warrants a tiny squeak and giggle from you, causing you to break away from the peaceful embrace with Bucky. Both he and Steve derive amusement from your, quite frankly, endearing outburst. Blood rushes to your face, and you feel a familiar, hot glow radiating from your cheeks.

" _ **Adorable**_." Steve points out. Bucky chuckles quietly from beneath you.

"Jackass." You reply petulantly, sitting up and pushing out your lower lip in an annoyed pout. Steve simply cups your face and nips at your pouting lower lip before pressing a kiss against your mouth.

"Still adorable. And beautiful. And incredibly sexy." He compliments you, his voice smooth as satin, and warm as morning sunshine. You clutch at his muscled bicep, as the kisses become deeper, more urgent. He pulls away and brushes his lips over your neck and shoulder, or teasing you by grazing over the corner of your mouth. Breaths become shorter, hitched and needy, the actions gain pace and sexual tension reaches fercocious heights.

"Steve..." You whisper desperately.

"I'm here, [Your Name]." He whispers back, with such tenderness, you fight between the urge to crush your mouth against or to cuddle him.

"I want you both so much." You say, louder now. Bucky's hands travel along your waist, his eyes continuing their lustful voyage of your body.

"You can have us both. At the same time." Steve tells you, as if reminding you of something.

"You mean-?" A thought crosses your mind.

"Get Bucky inside you." He commands, with a raffish grin. "Then I'll come in from the back."

 

"Hey, Stevie, you always were one for taking HYDRA from behind, remember? Who knew your combat strategy was an indication of your sexual preferences!" Bucky pipes up cheekily, grunting a little as you lower yourself onto his rock-hard length. A tingle dances along your spine at the return of his heat and girth.

"Very funny, Buck. Weren't you the one who liked to take shots from a distance?"

"I believe the term is 'sniper', punk. What are you hinting at, huh?" Bucky asks, evidently enjoying the sensation of being encompassed by your walls from the way he starts undulating his pelvis subtly.

"Well, there was that one time when I asked how far you could blow a load-and you managed to get it across the-"

"Oh-kay, you made your point." Bucky intervenes hastily. Despite Steve not even having finished his sentence, you burst into peals of laughter.

"That's both arousing and hilarious at the same time!" You whoop jubilantly.

"I mean, that was some serious projectile business. You coulda taken out a few HYDRA troops at the same time-" Steve continues. You cover your mouth to disguise the loud snorts being emitted.

" _ **Steve**_!" Bucky snaps.

"I love you, Buck." Steve says sweetly. Bucky seems rendered helpless by this proclaimation.

"I love you too, punk."

"Now, let's finish what we started." Steve says, moving so he's kneeling behind you.

 

A flutter of excitement fills your gut when you feel his hands rubbing your hips soothingly. An involuntary clenching of your muscles causes the ex-assassin, still contentedly enveloped within you, to moan quietly.

 "[Your Name], you're definitely okay with anal sex? Have you done it before? I can take it very slow if you haven't." Steve inquires, respectfully attaining your permission.

"No problems there. I've dabbled. I'm open to many things." You reply in a sage fashion.

"Okay, that's good. I'll still 'loosen' you up a bit, make sure you're  _ **totally**_ relaxed, and  _ **comfortable**_. If at  **any** point, you feel discomfort, tell me, please. I don't want to cause you any pain." Steve tells you.

"Will do. Thanks, Steve." You touch his hand, and turn your head to smile pleasantly at the national icon.

"Trust me, if there's anything he can do better at than beating shit up and giving compelling, morale-boosting speeches-it's anal. He's like the fuckin' god of giving it in the ass." Bucky assures you. His statement is backed up by the way his length twitches inside of your passage.

"Awesome. Careful though, Steve, Bucky's set the bar pretty high for you. Don't let me down." You tease impishly, with a mischievous grin-tongue poking out between your teeth.

"Duly noted." Steve remarks confidently, his hand pushing gently on your upper back. "Now, pardon me for being blunt, but I need you to spread your ass, [Your Name]."

"I love it when you go all authoritative on me." You sigh, leaning forward and resting on your elbows.

"Fun fact: Steve was great at dirty talk before the serum. Considering he was a sweet, Catholic boy of the forties, he had a **_disgusting_**   mouth on him." Bucky informs you, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Oh, I'm not surprised. It's _**always**_ the sweet ones who are the filthiest." You say, as if imbuing them with wisdom. Steve's hand pushes a buttock cheek aside.

"Sweet or not, Bucky never complained about my disgusting mouth." Steve throws into the conversation. Bucky has an oafish smile plastering his face.

"Mmm, true. I remember when I could pick that beautiful, skinny little ass up and throw you over my shoulder." He reminisces.

"Yummy, skinny Steve. There are pictures of you, what you looked like before the serum-I would have tapped that little ass ha-a-a-a-ppily...." You falter, feeling Steve's index finger tease the puckered ring of muscle.

 

"Well, [Your Name], I'm very flattered. Pity you weren't around in the forties, you'd have made a certain skinny punk feel a whole lot better. And believe me, even as an asthmatic bag of bones, I would have given it to you just as vigorously as I do now. Or at the very least, **tried** _._ "

"I d-don't doubt it..." You stutter as Steve's fingertip continues its repeating quest around your hole, occasionally nudging at the 'entrance'. The sensation is oddly pleasant-different to having your front parts fondled-but nonetheless, satisfying.

"Feeling okay for you, so far?" Steve questions you.

"So far, so good." You answer.

"I'm glad. Now, I need you to completely relax."

The finger is _**very**_ slowly eased into you by a fraction, with a steady, 'crooking' motion. Fortunately, your past experience has made the process of entry more familiar, and considerably less uncomfortable. In fact, the way Steve is motioning his finger feels quite enjoyable. Not sensing any sign of discomfort, Steve pushes his finger deeper. There is a feeling of something being inside your back passage-it's neither exceptionally satisfying or offensive.

"All good?"

"Yep." You reply jovially.

"Ready for a second finger?"

"Go for it, Cap." You grant him permission. He takes his time, never forcing anything in, but gently easing it in- which helps you maintain the sense of relaxation. Again, Steve crooks his middle finger as he inserts it into your passage, throwing in a small, pleasurable twist to aid in 'opening' you up.

"Okay, I'm gonna scissor my fingers. It should, for lack of a better phrase, stretch you out. Then, if you're still comfortable, I'll use a thrusting motion to get you, um, reacquainted with anal. Happy with that?"

"Sure thing. In retrospect, 'get reacquainted with anal' would make a great slogan for a t-shirt." You chime, eliciting an amused snort from Bucky.

 

Steve caresses your buttocks with his free hand, as he stretches his fingers steadily within your back passage. The tiniest of stinging sensations causes you to wince-which Bucky takes immediate note of.

"Hold up a sec, Steve. You okay, [Your Name]?" Bucky inquires out of concern.

"I'm fine. It's just been a while, is all. I'll be alright if you keep going, Steve."

"Only if you're certain." Steve resumes the gentle scissoring motion with his fingers, the discomfort soon fading as your muscles and passage adapt to the digits occupying them. "Ready for me to thrust 'em in and out?" Steve asks cautiously.

"Can't know if we don't try, right? Go ahead."

"Remember, tell me if it gets painful." Steve reminds you, proceeding to sedately pump his index and middle finger in and out of your back passage, awakening an agreeable tingling in your nerve endings.

"Mmm..." You moan, almost inaudibly, resting your forehead against Bucky's chest. With enhanced hearing capabilities, both men detect the tiny expression of satisfaction.

"Told ya he was good." Bucky says, stroking your hair affectionately. This slightly unusual, pleasant sensation drives you to lift your rear higher up and part your legs further, as if doing so would offer Steve greater access somehow. In response to this display of appreciation, Steve bends his fingers and adds the familiar twist at sporadic intervals, earning his ego a healthy boost as you groan and slowly rock your hips back and forth.

"Oh boy, Stevie, whatever you're doin' to her, keep doin' it. I can feel you sliding up and down my cock, [Your Name]..." Bucky throws his arms around you, as though trying to draw you even closer to his body. "Jesus, I can see that sweet ass moving!"

"Steve..." You breathe out wantonly, gripping at Bucky's arms. You suddenly sense movement, and feel a tongue lave over the dip in your back. Lips brush over your smooth skin, pursing to smatter delicate kisses on your lower back. A rolling of your pelvis, bearing yourself down on Steve's fingers makes you, unwittingly, clench the walls of your front passage.

" _ **Uhhh**_...oh fuck!" Bucky curses sharply, hands questing down your back, to clutch at the flesh of your rear

"Steve...Steve, try putting your dick inside me." Your request sounding more like an imperative, spoken in the heat of arousal.

"Absolutely sure?"

" ** _Yes_ **!" You holler, shrilly. With as much circumspection as he had when inserting his fingers, Steve removes them carefully. Soon, the head of his member is being grazed, temptingly, around your entrance, following its widened circumference dutifully. You wait with bated breath, expecting at any moment for it to be pushed inside of you. The waiting becomes an agony born from desire.

"Steve!" You implore. About to make a yelping declaration of _**need**_ for his sizeable shaft, you open your mouth, but are promptly interrupted by Steve languidly sliding his length-slippery with what you assume to be pre-come-into your back passage.

 

 

 A grateful cry is forced from your core and fills the bedroom, as the fascinating combination of a mild burning pain and sparking delight travels in euphoria-inducing currents through your body. Steve pulls you up, by your waist, so you now straddle Bucky in an upright position. The blond heedfully alters his position so his body is virtually pressed to your back, then reaches around with his 'clean' hand to rub at your swollen clitoris with a fingertip. Interpreting this as a green light, Bucky grinds his pelvis up, driving his length deeper. Your hands wander over Bucky's skin, the swell of his muscles, the tiny droplets of perspiration on his chest. Dragging your hands down, you can feel his stomach muscles contracting, his waist sinuating as he thrusts ravenously into you, the head of his shaft striking a sensitive spot inside you. His own hands toy with your breasts, sweeping his thumbs over your nipples.

Steve, on the other hand, offers gentle strokes, his pace relaxed-an odd _**serenity**_ about his motion. The feel of his groin surging rhythmically against your rear, the friction of his stomach sticking to and peeling away from your back, and his fingertip kneading your clit-everything happening to you at this moment has you sky-rocketing towards physical rapture.

The room is soon full of the erotic chrous of ragged breaths, hissed curses, balking screaks, low grunts and needy moans. Nothing outside the bedroom holds any importance, any value-the only thing you seem able to focus on or _**comprehend**_ is the unbridled pleasure your body was **_crafted_ ** to grant you, the feel of these two perfect specimens of masculinity filling you, their sinewy bodies pounding against you with their bottomless reserves of stamina. Heat, breaths, perspiration and pleasure-the words become an internal salacious mantra, as you, Bucky and Steve are connected, bound together in delectably sinful, lust-ridden journey towards satisfaction.

You tip your head back onto the firm pillow of Steve's shoulder, and instictively kisses you passionately, mouths at your flushed throat. When his lips peel away from your skin, he begins goading you-

"How's it feel...havin' two cocks inside you? Good, right? Not surprised, seeing as you love taking dick so much. You love being filled up with our come, don't ya? Well, I love _**filling**_ you up with it-I'm gonna enjoy pumping your tasty ass full of it. What about you, Buck? What do you love about fuckin' [Your Name]?" A hint of his old Brookyln dialect slipping into his words.

"Her wet pussy is perfect. It's like I'm meant to be here, Stevie. Those warm, slippery walls rubbing my dick...shit, I could spend all day _**fucking**_ you, [Your Name] and not get bored. I love it when you whine and squeal as if gettin' a cock is what you _**need**_. Makes me just want to ram into you so fuckin' hard, I never want to have to pull my dick outta ya. But what I love even more, and I'm sure Stevie would agree, is when  _ **you**_ come-" Bucky's old accent also creeping in.

"Oh Christ yes! Better than the greatest blow-job or hand-job, 'cause we can feel you completely _**lose yourself**_ , gripping us over and over like you don't want us to leave. Like Bucky said, if I had a choice-I'd never pull out. Fact, it just makes me want to push my dick in even further, see how far I can get it....'specially when you moan and scream...aw man, it's beautiful..."

"Fuckin' perfect..." Says Bucky.

"Comin' is great, but it's just never as good as the build-up, the way you plead us to ** _let you come_ **. Hell, I'm not complainin' though. Dunno about you, Buck, but I love makin' sure [Your Name] gets pumped full of every last _**squirt**_ of come. How about you, baby?"

"'Course I love it. Makes me feel like I'm leavin' a piece o' me inside of ya, [Your Name]. Maybe it's a 'man-thing', right? I ain't a chauvenist or anything, but I kinda feel like I'm markin' a piece o' territory inside you, doll. Turns me on more than it should, I guess."

"We _**need**_ your sweet pussy as much as you need our dicks. We think about it,  _ **jerk off**_ thinking of you wrapped around us, how incredible you taste, how you _**feel on our tongues**_ ..... imagining what'd be like to _**watch**_ you get yourself off, rubbin' your clit and fingerin' yourself-"

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Bucky snarls, thrusting up harder into you.

"Thinkin' nobody's watchin'...thinkin' your all on your own...just rubbin' and fuckin' yourself with your own fingers-that little fantasy gets me off everytime-" Steve purrs.

 

The bombardment of heated dirty talk has your loins damn-near close to _ **exploding**_ . The amassing pressure inside of you and between your legs has become _**tortorous**_ , and you find yourself babbling manically-a sweaty, aroused, incoherent mess caught between two muscled, gorgeous super-soldiers.

"Someone's having fun, huh, Buck?" Stevie teases. The brunet grins, nipping his lower lip and flashing bedroom eyes at you, as he crosses his arms behind his head yet again. He barely looks exhausted from thrusting up into you for so long, despite the sheen of sweat on his body. The final straw comes when he cocks an eyebrow up at you, and speaks in that husky voice of his-

In Russian.

He's taunting you sexually....in _**Russian**_.

 _ **Mother fucker**_ , you think in the tiniest moment of clarity.

He then deliberately exaggerates the roll of his pelvis, effortlessly, winking at you lasciviously. Before, needless to say, chuckling and adding with a few more raspy lines of Russian. To add sexy insult to insanely hot injury, Steve speaks to you in the low, honey-like timbre of his voice....in fluent French! As he croons the 'language of love' into your ear, he rubs your clitoris with more pressure.

" _ **Oui, oui...tu es**_ _ **parfait**_..." He groans suddenly when his shaft coasts along your back passage.

Bucky guffaws again, then promptly switches from Russian to speaking, you presume, filthily in German.

You moan desperately, clawing for release.

" _ **Lauter**_!" Bucky commands, smiling jaggedly.

You shriek their names, various obscenities as you hang on the edge of glorious oblivion.

" _ **Gutes Madchen**_..." Bucky hums complacently.

" _ **Bonne fille, [Your Name]**_." Is all Steve has to whisper into your ear, and you yaup to signal the crashing tidal wave of your orgasm.

 

 You fall forward onto your elbows, as your walls clench and release, clench and release-ridding you of the pressure, of the tension in such a wonderful way. There's a brief sensation of something bursting forth, a strange wetness. A rush of endorphins to your head leaves you utterly at rest. In perfect synch, Bucky and Steve-victim to your tightening passages-yell, as their orgasms wash over them. Bucky's hips jerk upwards and his hands fly out from behind his head to seize hold of your thighs. You watch his head fall back, and feel the rattle in his chest as he unleashes another shout of delight. Steve practically _**hugs**_ you from behind, being careful not to suddenly slam forward into you-even in the midst of his orgasm. Instead, he merely lays his head on your shoulder as his seed spills into your back passage.

The three of you lie there, panting in post-orgasm langour, not uttering a word to one another. You all enjoy the peace of your momentary 'high', the odd, soft graze of fingertips over one another's arms in small, token gestures of affection.

Moments later, when returning to a more lucid state, you quickly become aware of the damp feeling between your legs, that appears to have seeped into Bucky's thatch of hair.

"Hold on...shit, tell me I didn't pee when I came-?" You sit up abruptly, peering down.

"Oh no. I don't think you peed. Something _**else**_ perhaps..." Bucky replies smugly.

"You _**really**_   enjoyed that, didn't you?" Steve asks, triumphantly.

"What gave it away?" You say, with a drowsy smile. "Hey, you both couldn't...you know?" You gestured for them to pull out. A small pout of disappointment plays at Bucky's lips as he removes himself from you reluctantly, with a wet sound. Steve eases out of you gradually, and falls back on the bed, lying prone next to Bucky. You perform a smooth roll, no longer straddling the ex-assassin, but instead now lying comfortably between the two super-soldiers. The three of you stare blankly at the ceiling.

"Seriously, though. _**That**_ was fantastic. The language thing was crazy hot, too-" You commend them both.

"Figured it would be." Bucky pipes up.

"And, did you both realise you slipped into your old accents?"

"Mm-hm. Seems to be one of those things that happens during sex. Like 'Captain America'." Steve says.

" ** _I loved it_**. " You announce, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you reference their earlier dirty talk. The two men swivel their heads around to look at you. You glance from side to side, seeing smiles tugging at their lips. In a matter of seconds, you all burst into peals of amiable laughter.

 

"C'mon, you two, give me some hugs!" You demand wriggling around between their warm bodies. Both men roll onto their sides, compliantly, and wrap their arms around you-letting you nestle down in their secure embrace.

"Wait. Buck-c'mere-" Steve lifts his head, as does Bucky at the call of his name. The two super-soldiers kiss with a tenderness that warms you to the very core.

"Love you, jerk."

"Love you, punk" They whisper to another, eyelids fluttering shut as they push their mouths together softly.

"Am I allowed to join in? Or would that be awkward? Love you guys! Y'know, as friends and fuck-buddies." You pipe up, receiving two joyful grins.

"We love you too, doll." Bucky speaks for the both of them-before they crane down to kiss you on either cheek.

"D'aww, _**you guys**_..."

All of you snuggle up together, lazy kisses exchanged between you now and again. You're quite certain you could remain cuddled up with the both of them for hours, until an all-too familiar sensation rears its annoying head-

"Hey, um, Bucky, Steve....I have to go pee."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is really fantastic at languages, the very few snippets I've included may be incorrect, so please please please excuse me :3 I had to rely on Google :3
> 
> Also, Steve seems to have a weird split personality with 'sexy time'...hope that doesn't seem too weird? :D *nervous smile*


	4. Not A Cold-Blooded Monster, But A Hot-Blooded Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyyy! Sorry for the wait, fabulous people, I've been struggling to write this chapter-and the reason will be revealed in the end notes!
> 
> It takes quite a while to get to the 'sexy time' in this chapter-and, proportionally, there's not much. A lot of delving into emotions in this one :D
> 
> Please forgive any spelling/general errors :D and enjoy! Hopefully!

Pulling on your previously discarded, and now, creased clothes, you enjoy the amiable patter between the two super-soldiers, whose company you'd _**thoroughly**_ enjoyed for a couple of hours. You slip your feet, with enviable elegance, into your kitten heels and begin to bid both men farewell-

"I guess I better head home, guys. Y'know, to eat food and then sleep-you've both exhausted me." On cue, a churning growl resonates from your stomach, punctuating your sentence.

"Sex, food and sleep. I admire your appreciation of the simple, satisfying things in life, [Your Name]." Bucky remarks fondly.

"You appreciate them too, Buck. In fact, I'm sure all you do is eat, sleep and fuck-" Steve teases his lover.

"-and _**suck**_ , don't miss that out, Captain!" Bucky reminds the blond with a defiant jubilance, before drawing his hand back and slapping Steve on the behind in a ribald fashion. A rather un-manly shriek escapes Steve, as he grasps his own-you imagine-stinging buttocks.

"Oh, that is coming back to bite you in the butt later on, jerk!" Steve feigns indignance, grinning elatedly at the brunet.

"Mmm, kinky." Bucky replies salaciously. You watch the brief exchange with a smirk in place, and decide to sidle in between the both of them.

"I'm going now. Do I get kisses from my favourite super-soldiers?" You peer up at them hopefully.

"C'mon, like we _ **weren't** _ gonna try and get our hands on you before you leave!" Steve scoops you up into his arms and leans in to give you a delightfully ardent farewell kiss. Quickly, you reach around-and with both hands-squeeze his backside, causing his hips to jerk forward. He pulls back and flashes a bemused smile at you.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist getting my hands on that glorious booty before I left." You say, biting your lower lip coquettishly.

"Heh, I know the feeling. I could grab those perfect **_peaches_** till they bruise." Bucky declares with endearing swagger.

"I would like to remind you both that my butt is getting sore from all this heavy handling." Steve interjects.

"It'll be sorer when I'm done with you by the end of the day." Bucky boasts seductively.

"Now, Sergeant, what makes you think I'm letting you have me so easily?" Steve rallies coyly.

"Because I know how much of a filthy cock slut you are for me." Bucky replies heatedly, closing the space between himself and the blond. You discreetly slide out from between them, and tiptoe away as if afraid of disrupting them. The two men are staring at one another with ravenous desire, their lips parting expectantly.

"Um, bedroom's all yours, guys. I'm heading out. See ya tomorrow." You bid them farewell briskly, not wanting to interrupt their 'moment'.

"See ya tomorrow, doll. Today's been incredible." Bucky responds in a deliciously alluring purr.

"See you then, [Your Name]." Steve adds. Before long, they're both reaching to cradle one another's faces in their hands, and leaning in to crush their mouths together in a passionate demonstration of ardour.

 

Leaving Bucky and Steve to their overwhelming amorous urges, and bottomless reserves of stamina, you call the elevator so you can finally start your journey home. When the doors slide open, a curious mixture of feelings twists your gut as you see Tony, leaning against the side of the elevator, arms folded across his chest.

"Well, this is a suprise." He comments, breaking the momentary silence. You stare at him, lips parting, bracing yourself to speak, to utter a few words-but, somehow, you're unable to say anything. Instead, you merely step into the elevator, the doors shutting soundlessly behind you. During the oddly tense descent to the ground floor, you keep shooting furtive glances the billionaire.

"[Your Name], please, I can barely get a word in edgeways." He jests, sarcastically. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why he's behaving as if you had never indirectly admitted your 'affection' for him.

"I-I figured you wouldn't be too keen to talk after..."

"After what?" The engineer cocks his head to one side, narrowing his eyes by a fraction.

"You know. What I said...earlier on...'loving your attitude'-" You remind him, becoming simultaneously uncomfortable and frustrated. His features don't light up in recognition or acknowledgement. "Remember?" A surge of disappointment lashes at your heart. _**Maybe it was just 'pillow talk'? Something meaningless he said in his after-glow?**_ You speculate. Tony takes a moment, as though in deliberation.

"Oh yeah-that. Well. I prefer not to make the work environment...awkward." He seems to tense up, not quite meeting your eyes as he explains.

"Really?" You ask, doubtfully.

"Despite what some people say, _**sometimes -**_ I like being a considerate individual." Tony insists, with that touch of slightly self-deflating humour. Keen to change the tack of conversation, he promptly inquires-"Speaking of work, did you find your first day here bearable?"

"Uh, I-yes. Yes, I did. It was pretty good, considering I basically do paperwork all day. Though that might be down to the **_added benefits_**." You flash a coy smile in his direction, and he returns it with a conceding one.

"I wouldn't want you getting bored while working here."

"And I deeply appreciate that." You simper playfully.

"Though I guess you must be quite the opposite of bored when doing paperwork. In fact, you must really, **really** be entertained by it. So much so, you're willing to do _**overtime**_." Tony's voice changes, becoming unsettlingly terse.

"Hmm?" You fake an air of ignorance.

"You've been off the clock since five. It's _**seven**_ now." The billionaire doesn't remotely sound like his normal, hedonistic, charismatic self, seemingly transforming into this stern, accusatory figure of authority.

 

"Oh? So it is! Like you say, paperwork-lotta fun sometimes." You hedge nervously.

"Yeah. I'm sure it is. Enough to do it for two extra hours. And shriek loudly about it-" Tony pushes himself away from the elevator wall and stands right next to you, invading your personal space in a confrontational manner.

"Tony-"

"That's not what you were screaming. I'm also certain that paperwork doesn't typically **bellow** your name-"

"Tony, please-"

"When you say 'paperwork', you wouldn't happen to mean a particular pair of hunky super-soldiers?" The billionaire hisses.

"Tony!" You feel tears pricking your eyes, and your throat aches with welling emotion.

"I'm not completely oblivious to everything outside my 'world', [Your Name]. In fact, I'm so fucking aware of things that I try hard to keep up pretences of being a self-absorbed prick! Know why? The minute I drop my guard, I turn into-into **this** spiteful piece of shit! So _**don't**_..don't lie to me. Just, tell me the truth. Be honest with me, be open with me. Do me that courtesy at least." Tony unleashes a torrent of vulnerability, which tugs at the strings of your heart yet also ignites a flame of anger within you.

"I don't understand you! You hired me to do admin work, and _**stipulated**_ quite clearly that I would be welcome to fuck you and your colleagues-but the very next day, you want me to _**stop**_ screwing anyone **but you**! Did agreeing to become your employee also encompass becoming your girlfriend, as well?"

"Don't you-" Tony balks, looking thunderous.

"No! I'll say what I want! Tony, you-you can't even tell me _**you love me**_. It's not fair of you to expect me to stop being with other people if you can't...can't tell me-"

"You can't tell me you love me, either." He argues, his tone softer now. You glare up at him, your expression a combination of hurt and rage.

"You're an asshole." You say, on the verge of crying. Tony seizes hold of your arms aggressively and demands-

"Did Cap and Barnes fuck you then, [Your Name]?! At the same time?! Did they make you feel the way I make you feel?! Or do you prefer having them inside you?!"

"Fuck you." You tell him quietly, tears rolling down your cheeks. The elevator opens, allowing you to make a sweeping exit. However, you're brought to a halt by Tony's hands-once again-grasping hold of you. This time, his touch is lighter, gentler, and he pulls you toward him to wrap you up in a comforting embrace.

 

"I'm sorry..." He whispers tenderly into your ear, running his coarse fingers through your hair, before peppering your forehead with tiny kisses. Tony cups your face in his warm hands and meets your eyes with those searching dark irises. Still tear-stained, you smile up at him dolefully, unable to remain resentful.

"I'm sorry, [Your Name]." He repeats, sincerely, wiping away the salty residue of your tears from your cheeks.

"I know..." You say woefully.

"I love you." Tony confesses in hushed tones, his forehead touching yours so the words are kept within the warm, intimate confines of your embrace.

"I love you too." You admit to him, stroking his cheek with your fingertips. For a few seconds, you swear you can see tears welling in his beautiful eyes, but being the kind of man he is-he swallows them back and makes a sly comment to hide the fissure in his facade-

"About time, sweet stuff!"

"Asshole." You quip adoringly, moving in to push your lips against his. As your mouths break apart, Tony gazes at you with pure devotion, as if you're the only person in existence that he could categorically cherish.

 

"I love you, [Your Name]. It's...it's insane, right? Falling for someone you've only known for two days. But after yesterday, when you left-it just hit me. I couldn't stop thinking about you." The engineer confides in you, exposing a side to him you never imagined you'd encounter.

"I don't know if you can already tell, but I'm not good with emotions. They have a habit of...destabilising me, so I tend to avoid them. Or at least, y'know, mask them with arrogance, wry humour and an ego the size of North America..." He begins-and you can't help but huff out a single chuckle- "...so when I started feeling like _**this**_ , it was unsettling. But it also felt _**amazing**_. At the time, I figured that maybe it would be best to keep my mouth shut. Not make things awkward between us. Part of me was kind of...pissed off that you were so damn incredible, so special-I just expected someone to come along, let me fuck them, hire them and let them screw whoever the hell they wanted. I didn't expect somebody like _**you**_ , [Your Name]..."

You don't say anything, instead, you choose simply listen to him.

"Then I was afraid how I felt...wouldn't be reciprocated. Sure, you enjoyed being with me when we got together, but lust and love are two separate things-I'm not delusional enough to believe otherwise. I couldn't handle taking that risk. Plus, the whole boss-employee thing wasn't exactly helping. But when you said, when you _**hinted**_ at how you feel for me-after I let my guard down-it was...a shock, I guess. The good kind, though." He smiles radiantly at you.

"And yeah. I've been sickeningly jealous for the past couple of hours you spent with Capsicle and Buckaroo. Ironic, isn't it? I'm the one who suggested we hire a new adminstrator and offer the extra perks of being to fuck whoever she wanted to fuck-and then I become attached to her and bitterly jealous of anyone who gets their hands on her." He remarks self-abhorrently.

"Doesn't mean I'm going to stop you from doing what you want to do. I've got no right to do that. Maybe...a part of me wants to know that you and me...that we'll-" This is the first time you see Tony struggle to speak. "A part of me wants to know whether if what we have...is special. If there's someone you want to be with, that's fine-" He doesn't sound entirely convincing, but you choose not to voice your momentary scepticism, "-but I **_need_**   to know what you do with **them** is different to what you do with **me**."  Vulnerability has written itself across Tony's face, as he opens his heart to you. You bring your hands up to hold his-still cupping your face-and tell him firmly but lovingly-

"I love _**you**_ , Tony. The way I feel when we're together, when we're talking, when you hold me and touch me...it's on a whole other level. It transcends sexual attraction completely. It's like...saying 'I love you' just isn't enough to express how I feel for you. But I'll say it anyway because I _**do**_ love you so fucking much."

The look on his face is one you'll never forget.

That's when you finally see Tony Stark cry.

 

He doesn't sob, or crumple up into a puddle of emotion. The tears welling in his eyes are, at last, allowed to fall, rolling sedately down his cheeks. Tony glances away, pressing his lips together, before exhaling sharply.

"Ah...I don't know how to turn the waterworks off. It's been so long since I last cried, I've actually forgotten." He makes a light joke of the moment. You swipe his tears away with your thumbs.

"You don't need to stop immediately. Cry for as long as you want to. I'll stay right here with you, I promise."

"Hmm, not a good idea. I've been bottling up a lot of insecurity and negativity over the duration since last time. I could probably weep for an enitre week. I blame my propensity for keeping potentially harmful emotions under the surface and allowing them to fester."

"Tony Stark, you are something else entirely. Innovative, engineering genius who can construct incredible items of technology practically in his sleep...but can't realise all he needs to do is just _**talk**_ to someone about how he feels." You scold him affectionately.

"Yeah, well, I like to think I make up for my hopeless emotional retardation with magnificent facial hair."

"It helps your case, definitely." You kiss him softly on the lips, running a finger over his 'magnificent', carefully groomed facial hair. "I love you, you emotional cripple. And don't forget it." You say vehemently.

"I won't. You are-" You push your lips against his, interrupting him at odd intervals of his sentence, "- more than welcome-" _**Kiss**_ ," -however-" _**Kiss**_ , "-to remind me-" You hold the back of his head, giving you more leverage for a deeper, amorous kiss, "-by doing  _ **that**_." Tony is finally able to finish his utterance.

"It'd be my pleasure." You quip slyly. The billionaire's hands wander down, venturing over the intimate terrain of your body, to rest on your behind. You continue smattering a flurry of playful butterly kisses on his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, whatever you can reach comfortably. Tony seems mildly distracted, peering down over your shoulder.

"[Your Name], are you wearing any underwear?" He inquires. You don't speak, but simply smile wickedly at Tony. A tell-tale hardness forming in his groin betrays Tony's feelings on the matter.

 

"Barnes?" He asks, causing your smile to widen into a beaming grin.

"How'd you figure that out?"

"He's, essentially, a dirty old man with a panty fetish. He's the kind of guy who would shove his head in a woman's hamper of dirty laundry, in the hope of catching a whiff of her used undies."

"Well there's an interesting mental image." You snort.

"I can't believe it! This entire time we've been talking, getting emotional, profressing our love for each other....and you've been commando under your skirt!"

"Yep. Pretty much." You respond, half-proudly, half-blithely.

"You're killing me here, [Your Name]." Tony says exhaustedly. Moving a hand down to grab his solid crotch, you rally mercilessly-

"Hmm, I don't think 'killing' is the right word to describe what I'm doing to you, Tony."

"I know. I was just hoping to exert some form of self-control over my rampant libido."

"Self-control sounds like 'agonising repression' to me." You massage his clothed erection with the palm of your hand, inciting a satisfied grunt and groan from the engineer.

"Uhh...self-control _**is**_ agonising repression." Tony says, rubbing your buttocks in slow circles. At that point you pull back your hand and disentangle yourself from your lover's arms-

 

"Unfortunately, as much as I'd like to take shameless advantage of your raging libido, I have to go home. I'm starving, and in need of about twelve hours of sleep after today."

"You have a kitchen and a bedroom here!"

"The fridge isn't stocked. And the bedroom is-" You bite back the word 'occupied' and merely say, "-in a somewhat questionable state. Don't worry, Tony, I'll be back tomorrow morning. It's like I'll have never been gone!" You reassure Tony, backing away towards the main doors.

"You could sleep in my bed. And I could make you dinner...well, I could _**get someone**_ to make you dinner." Tony offers, clearly eager for you not to leave.

"As wonderful as that offer is, there are a few issues with it. One of them being, I have no change of clothes."

"Who said wearing clothes was necessary? You could work in the nude, I don't think anyone would mind. _**I**_ personally would take much greater interest in paperwork if I got to watch you doing it completely _**buffo**_..."

"Tony..." You sigh, suppressing the urge to giggle.

"We could eat dinner, eat desert, cover each other in said desert and lick it off one another-"

"Tony..."

"-then fuck each other into a fatigued delirium and fall asleep cuddling-"

"Tony, all of that sounds incredible and insanely tempting. But I have to go back to my place. Maybe another night?"

"Yeah. Can't blame me for trying, though?"

"Not even slightly." You tell him fondly.

 

"Well. Time to go binge on junk food, watch some romantic comedy, cry over ice cream and then masturbate feverishly." Tony breathes a heavy, wistful sigh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"All at the same time?"

"Sure, I can multi-task."

"The weird thing is, I can't honestly say I'd be turned off by seeing that."

"One of the many reasons why I love you." Tony remarks adoringly. You simper playfully.

"I expect a list of all those reasons so I can gloat shamelessly."

" _ **Honey**_ , I'm the egotistical, attention-whore out of the two of us. You're supposed to be the self-assured, laid back, emotionally secure lover!" Tony argues.

"Then you shoulda put that in your job vacancy ad, _**sugar**_." You spin on your heel and stride forward, with a confident sway to your hips.

"God, I love it when you get sassy with me." Tony growls ravenously.

"See you tomorrow, _**Iron Man**_." You call back sauvely.

"I'm gonna miss you!" Tony complains.

"I wasn't talking to _**you**_ , Tony." You glance back at him, tantalizingly, over your shoulder, through lowered lashes. The billionaire squawks, throwing his hands over his head.

" _ **Killing**_ ! Me! You! Evil! Woman!" He barks out.

"I love you too, baby." You laugh heartily, sweeping out of Stark Tower to begin your journey home.

 

Throughout the entire evening, right until pulling your quilt up and nestling down in bed-you feel wonderfully warm and _ **whole**_. It's as if you can almost visualise a glow emanating from you, an aura of utter tranquility. You have no doubts as to why that is. When you close your eyes, you see the enchanting smile, the dark eyes filled with sincerity, and the creases of laughter lines. You drift into a peaceful slumber, hearing Tony's heartfelt confession of his feelings clearly in your mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Gliding into Stark Tower the next morning, you flutter your fingers at Melissa in a jaunty semblance of a wave, making your way toward the elevator. Again, you feel fabulous in a classy, form-fitting, sleeveless dark grey dress, a waist belt that further emphasises and flatters the contours of your body, and polished black 'three inch' stilettos. Wonderfully refined, professional and supremely sexy. Much to your delight, when the elevator doors open-you're met with the welcoming sight of Tony, leaning back casually.

" _ **Hellooo**_ , sugar. My morning has just been perked up considerably. And when I say 'morning', I am-in fact-referring to my penis." He greets you buoyantly.

"You sure know how to make a woman feel special." You practically bound forward and fling your arms around the incomparable engineer.

"Oh, why thank you! I'm glad you noticed!" He winds his arms around your waist, and nuzzles into your neck, placing a light kiss on the delicate skin. "Mmm. JARVIS, hold the elevator for a few minutes."

" **Of course, sir**." The A.I replies courteously.

"I see you managed to survive the night without me." You kiss Tony's smooth, shaven cheek, breathing deep the aroma of his cologne, soap and deodorant-all brought together in a splendid carcophany of scents.

"Only just." He answers, unusually sentimental. Quite spontaneously, Tony slips his arms beneath your backside and hauls you up, eliciting a brief shriek of shock from yourself. The shriek quickly melts into delighted laughter, and you wrap your legs around his torso.

"I kept thinking about you last night, especially when I was in bed..." You begin, deliberately selecting a questionable choice of words.

"Dare I say, _**giggity**_?" Tony inerjects.

"Thinking about what you said. About the way you feel. I can't describe how incredible it was to hear you say that, Tony, it really was. I promise not to mention it too much, I'm aware discussing emotions isn't your forte...but I just want you to know, you _**can**_ talk to me about _**whatever**_. You mean a hell of a lot to me, so I don't ever want you to feel like you're all alone. You've got me-and believe me when I say this, pal, I'm not leaving anytime soon." You tell him with great zeal. He gives you a tender smile, and cranes his neck forward slightly so your noses and foreheads touch-connecting you in such a loving, intimate way.

"I genuinely cannot put into words how much that means to me, [Your Name]. The feeling is completely ineffable." Tony says with heartwarming honesty. "But it's a two-way street, remember? If _**you**_   need someone to talk to, if you need somebody just to _**be there**_....I'll do my best. Plus, I'm non-judgemental because of all the weird shit I've done or thought, so consider that an added bonus."

"I appreciate that, Tony." You chuckle softly. "I love you." You add serenely.

"I love you, too." He croons, one hand moving up to stroke your back in a steady pattern.

 

 Tony finally 'unlocks' the elevator allowing it to be called to other floors, it immediately ascends to a higher level on Stark Tower.

When the doors glide open, Steve and Bucky saunter in, regarding you with knowing smiles and bedroom eyes. You beam at them both, unintentionally altering your body language in a way that could be perceived as 'inviting'.

"Morning, doll. How ya holding up?" Bucky asks affably.

"Very well, thanks. Yourself?" You ogle his marvellous phsyique, clothed today in a black t-shirt and jeans.

"Great. I mean, how could I not be after yesterday? Nothing beats a threesome, right?" He pipes up jovially.

"Buck!" Steve admonishes his friend. You know it's all an act for the secret sexual deviant that is Steve Rogers-which makes his 'good boy' guise sexier, and his _**real**_ nature insanely arousing.

"What? Not like we have to keep it secret-"

"You wouldn't have been able to even if you tried. I'm pretty sure indigenous tribes in South America heard you all giving it to each other." Tony remarks. He can't quite take the bitter edge from his words, though thankfully, nobody but you seems to notice. Bucky actually guffaws at the scathing comment disguised as humour.

"I wouldn't have had it any other way, Stark." He says, a little breathless, before settling down and sighing reminiscently. "Ahhh, doll, it really was amazing. I can't get my mind off it all." He takes a step closer to you, and speaks a panty-soaking purr- "I still have those juicy panties of yours, y'know. Just smelling 'em reminds me of eating you out-"

"Oh, look-y here, we're at the Admin Floor!" Tony interrupts loudly as the doors open. "Unleash yourself on that paperwork, [Your Name], make it _**fear**_ the very sight of you!" He ushers you out of the elevator. You stand there dumbly, staring at him in vexation. Even Steve and Bucky appear somewhat perplexed.

"Um..."

"See you soon, sweet stuff." Tony quickly bids you _**adieu**_.

Confusion doesn't even begin to describe what you feel. 

 

Sorting through a fresh pile of paperwork, you give a dreary sigh, and brave the tedium of administrative employment. You soon come across a small bundle of sheets, stapled together and labelled with a lurid, neon pink post-it note- _**V.IMPORTANT**_.

"If it's so important, why is under about fifty fucking sheets of paper?" You mutter bitterly. Reading through, you gather that it's paperwork regarding the replacement of certain, and _**unmentioned**_ , lab equipment. Without knowing the various equipment required, you're not able to tally up the cost or, more importantly, get it **replaced**. Uncertain of who to approach about laboratory matters, you call out tenatively to the Tower's A.I-

"Um, JARVIS?"

" **Yes, Miss [Last Name]?** "

"I have some paperwork here, about getting new stuff for the lab. Is there anyone in particular I should go to?"

" **I would recommend visiting Dr Banner** **with matters pertaining to the laboratory.** "

"Thanks, JARVIS. Much appreciated." You reply gratefully, rising from your chair and striding toward the elevator. The doors open automatically, allowing you to step inside the second you're in close proximity. "Alright-y. To the lab, I guess." You speak amiably to JARVIS.

" **Indeed.** **Would you prefer me to keep the elevator held, or will your _consultation_ be carried out over a significant duration **?" He queries you.

"Ha-ha, JARVIS. How droll of you." You respond laconically.

" **Apologies, Miss [Last Name]. I would have sorely regretted squandering the opportunity.** " JARVIS says ruefully.

"All is forgiven for now, you sly fiend." You tell him affectionately.

" **You have fallen prey to my artifical charms, it would seem, Miss [Last Name].** "

"I gotta admit, you're pretty darn endearing."

" **You are too kind! Alas, our cordial exchange must be cut short. We have arrived at the laboratory.** "

"Aw, we'll get to converse later on, JARVIS. See you around!" The doors open, revealing a very neatly organised, structured lab.

" **Farewell, Miss [Last Name].** " JARVIS says politely as you exit the elevator. That's when you see Bruce Banner, tapping away at a holographic screen, occasionally peering down a wad of notes he's clutching in his free hand.

 

"Dr Banner?" You call out softly, being especially careful not to startle him. He turns around, offering a genial smile.

"Hi there. I'm sorry I didn't greet you sooner, I'm so wrapped up in this latest project I didn't even notice you come in." He apologises bashfully, casting his notes aside onto a desk and walking towards you. 

"That's alright, Dr Banner-"

"Please, call me Bruce. I'm not one for formalities. It's a pleasure to meet you, ** _[Your Name]_**? The others...might have mentioned you..." He stretches his arm out, offering his hand for you to shake.

"That's right. And, um, it's lovely to meet you too." You take his hand. His grip is gentle, warm and, somehow, _**sensitive**_. As if, already, he's attuned to your body. A heat spreads over your face, and you glance away, for fear of blushing like a infatuated school-girl.

"It's not often I get visitors up here. Can I ask what brings you to the lab?" He regards you with those coffee-coloured eyes.

"Paperwork, unfortunately. I wanted to ask you about the equipment that needs replacing, I've got some forms, but there's nothing specific mentioned so I can't calculate the cost."

"Ah, of course-" Bruce's swarthy complexion reddens with embarrassment, "-yeah, an unfortunate _**incident**_. The, um, Other Guy got a bit of a surprise. Fortunately, it wasn't long lasting." He admits. "Sure, I'll run through everything I need replaced."

"Thanks, Dr-I mean, Bruce." You smile scintillatingly at him, deepening his blush.

"Not a problem at all, [Your Name]."

 

As Bruce lists the necessary equipment of a wide variety, you take note of them dutifully. You also pay attention to Bruce's posture, how warm and open he is with you, the fascinated gaze he gives you when you look down at your sheet of paper. His eyes roam across your face, betraying his enthrallment. Bruce's voice is intensely soothing, lulling you into relaxation. He soon startles you by remarking-

"I can see why they talk about you so much. You're very beautiful, [Your Name]." He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You slowly peer up at him from your notes, mouth splitting into a stunning grin.

"That's sweet of you to say."

Bruce adjusts his spectacles once more. "I'm...not really the smooth-talking kind. I somehow managed to stumble my way into past relationships. I'm not a natural at charming women-because I either hedge around what I want to say, or I just...well...I find you very physically attractive and...I...well, I-" He stammers, so you choose to interrupt him by shushing him tenderly-

"It's okay, Bruce. I know." You discard your notes and pen on a nearby table, and then step forward, closing the distance between you and the doctor. You brush your fingertips over his cheek, and his eyes close at your loving touch. "Glasses off, Dr." You command flirtatiously, and he happily obliges.

Soon, your mouths meet in a slow, sensual flurry of hot kisses, fingers raking through one another's hair. He pulls his mouth away to ghost his silken lips along your neck, and tilt your head back breathing out an appreciative sigh. His fingers comb upward, from the base of your skull, to the roots of your hair-stimulating the nerves to perfection and making you melt in his arms. With a tiny roll, you hang your head forward to kiss the scientist. At every brief moment your mouths part, he experimentally runs the tip of his tongue across a lip, alternating between lower and upper. You find yourself returning the favour, only to be rewarded with a stiffening in the crotch of Bruce's slacks. A well-placed moan from the back of your throat has the stiffening turn into a wonderful 'tenting'. Bruce rests his forehead against yours, hands exploring your body unhurriedly, tracing every curve, every dip. With hands so accustomed to being cautious, handling the most fragile of items, his touch is so delicate.

"Bruce..." You whisper amorously. He caresses your back, pushing his lips against yours. "Bruce, take my dress off..." You tell him, rotating steadily so you have your back to him. Without a moment's hesitation, Bruce begins pulling down the miniscule zipper on your dress, at a torturously slow pace, drawing out the process of undressing you, as if tearing your clothes off would be a cardinal sin. He wants to relish every inch of your body as it's revealed to him, and you have _**no**_ complaints whatsoever. As the zip hits the obstruction of the waist belt- instead of promptly unfastening it and throwing it aside- Bruce slides the dress down over your smooth shoulders, exposing your back, letting the dress hang in crumpled folds around your hips. The doctor then decides to un-do the waist belt, and place it elsewhere-you're not really paying attention to much beside the excitement building in the pit of your stomach.

 

Bruce peels your dress down the remaining length of your body, allowing it to tumble down your legs. You pick up your feet up gracefully, stepping out of the clothing, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and black heels. He seems to be taking a considerable amount of time putting your dress aside, so much so, the cool air of the lab begins to bite at your bare skin. Craving his touch, his heat , you call to the scientist, and he responds ardently-

"Don't worry. I'm right here." Bruce presses his body against yours. You feel warm skin, fine, curling chest hair tickling your back, as his arms wrap around you. His body isn't solid and muscled like the other male Avengers, but it's in no way any less attractive or pleasant to the touch. In fact, after all the washboard abs and pectoral muscles you could bounce quarters off, it's oddly refreshing to have a softer male body against you. Besides, he was certainly hard in the right _**place**_.

"Bruce..." You purr when his mouth grazes over the nape of your neck, gifting you with sweet, light kisses. Velvet smooth hands retrace their path over your back, sometimes sliding across your stomach, so he can drift his fingertips above and beneath your navel. When Bruce's hands rove upward, you half-expect to have your breasts fondled lovingly. Instead he halts the moment his fingers make contact with your bra, and passes his hands over so he barely skims the exposed flesh of your breasts. He traces the shape of your collar bone, kissing the side of your throat with pure eroticism. Bruce's hands travel over your shoulders and glide down your arms, his hands compressing gently against your skin as if massaging you. An appreciate moan from you draws a pleased chuckle from the doctor.

"Oh God, Bruce..." You groan as he shifts his focus to your waist, pressing his thumbs into your lower back and moving them in steady circles.

"Say many things about me, say I'm not at least reasonably competent at massages..." He speaks soothingly. You giggle, relaxing with his satisfying ministrations. Clearly determined to map the terrain of your body to greatest accuracy, Bruce's hands now venture up your back, his palms pressing into your skin as he does so-as if to 'iron out the kinks'. You issue a hum low within your throat in pleasure. 

The scientists fingers eventually slip beneath the straps of your bra, and ease them down, taking care to brush his knuckles over your skin caringly. A tingle of exhiliration warms you at your core when he begins to unhook the undergarment. Once unfastened, you happily allow it to slide off and fall onto the floor. Yet again, Bruce purposefully avoids running his palms over your nipples, ghosting over the silken skin at the sides of your breasts. At this point, you ache to have his hands fondle them, to stimulate you in the most intimate parts of your body.

You feel him travel down, rubbing your hips adoringly. With slightly more urgency, he pushes your panties down, taking care to squeeze and knead your thighs as he does so. You hastily step out of them, eager to continue. At long last, he grants you your wish, and takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger-rotating and tweaking it lightly. The stimulation rushes straight to between your legs.

"Unghhh..." You moan, going limp against him. Using his other hand, Bruce strokes the warm skin above your triangle of pubic hair, intentionally ignoring the-now-damp folds, and the engorged clitoris _**desperately**_ in need of friction. Heat pools rewardingly at your entrance, and a sudden chilled wetness seems to smear your inner thighs. You crane your neck down, parting your legs slightly to examine the cause. To your pleasant surprise, you find strands of your womanly juices clinging to your thighs, signalling your need for Bruce to fill you.

 

"Bruce, please, I need you inside me. I'm so wet! Please!" You implore, surrendering to the desire and the hot kisses he plants along your cheek, neck and shoulder. The hand, ignoring your parts before, ventures down to 'cup' you in his palm.

"Mmm." He sighs longingly. "Incredible. Beautiful. Utterly perfect." He whispers. Bruce then moves the hand at your breast, over to the other, rewarding it with the same tender treatment.

"Please..." You whine, turning your head around to look at him beseechingly, your noses touching slightly, your lips perpendicular to his .

"You're definitely ready?" Bruce asks, attaining your permission.

"Completely. More than ready, _**desperate**_ !" You mewl.

"Okay. Walk over to the wall-" He orders you gently. Intrigued, and full of yearning, you do as he says.

"Bring your butt out a little." He then commands, but there's a timid waver to his voice, as if he feels embarrassed speaking in such a way.

"Uh huh." You push your backside out, laying your hands flat on the wall in front of you.

"Now...spread your legs out a bit." Bruce tells you. You peer back at him coquettishly, emitting a kittenish giggle at his adorable blush and transfixed gaze of beguilement. "I'm afraid I'm not too good when it comes to, um, _**dirty**_ talk." He admits.

"It's alright, Bruce, you can leave the dirty talk to me. But you are _**more**_ than welcome to whisper sensual little nothings in my ear, y'know." You encourage the reserved scientist.

"I think I can do that." He says in a throatier voice than you would have expected, approaching you, pressing his front to your back once more. The heat of his body, and the painted wall cool against your breasts and stomach, create an ideal balance.

 

"I need you in me, Bruce." You pule with alarmed urgency. Bruce reaches down past your buttocks, to the soaking puddle that is now your womahood. He dips a forefinger into your entrance, experimentally, ensuring the pad of his finger awakens the cluster of nerve-endings. With an indrawn gasp of air, you bump your forehead against the wall, and reach down to anchor the doctor's hand in place.

"Ahhahhh..." A quivering moan escapes the confines of your mouth. Such rewardingly positive feedback affords Bruce a burst of confidence, and he thrusts his finger into you, sending a wave of pleasure from your loins through your core. You attempt to grind against the wall to give your clitoris _**some**_ kind of friction, but Bruce stills your sinuating hips with his free hand.

"No. Let me do that for you." He insists passionately, curving his arm around the swell of your hip, to your front, and placing his free hand between your legs. Mercifully, he starts to slowly rub his fingertip against the nub of sensitive skin-which had been aching for contact. The surge of spectacular sensation causes you to draw your hand away from his and lay it against the wall, returning it to its original place. You thank Bruce with an elated cry and plaintive, needy whimper, involuntarily rocking your pelvis against him. Certain you could hear a grunt of arousal from the doctor, you reach back, fumbling somewhat, to clutch at his hip. Feeling the fabric of boxers in your grasp, you say firmly-"

"These need to come off. Now." You tug at the thin, cotton material. Bruce very willingly obliges, pulling his hands away from you and to remove his underwear frantically. You despise the chill his abadoning hands leave behind, but soon relish the perfect warmth of their return. A digit returns to stimulate your clitoris, but one isn't replaced within your passage. Much to your absolute jubilation, you hear a gentle shuffling of a hand, and something slick and wet being slathered over skin. It promptly occurs to you that Bruce is spreading his pre-come along his shaft, and the thought has you shivering.

A kiss is placed upon your shoulder. You swivel your head around as far as is comfortable, so Bruce can brush his lips over the delicate corner of your mouth. He appears to adjust himself, from the brief fidgeting at your back, and soon-you feel the leaking head of his member at your entrace. The scientist guides his penis and eases it inside of you, groaning as you welcome him voraciously with your dripping walls, massaging his length.

Bruce fills you splendidly-while not as large as Bucky, Steve or Thor (but you'd quickly concluded Thor could probably out-size a **_horse_** ), his size is equally satiating and orgasm-inducing in its own right. And you fully intend to savour his girth stretching you, the way he angles his hips to fully **ensure** every possible inch of your passage is lovingly caressed with his shaft.

 

Bruce leans forward, resting his head on your shoulder, as he proceeds to thrust sedately in and out of your passage. His finger maintains a steady rhythm rubbing your clit, each ministration sending you towards a delectable, euphoric oblivion. Each slow pump of his crotch is punctuated by quiet clapping of flesh against flesh, filling the otherwise quiet lab. Your hisses of breath and gasps become gradually more resounding, as do Bruce's throaty moans low in his throat, and a slick crackle that accompanies his shaft filling you; soon all layering to create a pornographic symphony. He slides unused hand around your front, to resume its long forgotten task of fondling your breasts.

"Bruce...need you...to fuck me faster!" You cry. The scientist quickens his pace, eliciting a short shriek from you. You feel an urge to envelope him, hold him captive within you- just so you can experience the mind-blowing sensations his shaft gifts to you. Even standing straight becomes too difficult, and you hunch over, limbs quaking with the approaching tide of your release.

"Bend...bend me over the table-" You urge him.

"I'll....I'll have to....pull out for a moment..." He wheezes.

"S'okay...s'okay..." You say dreamily. He removes his member from your passage-leaving a cold emptiness behind. Bruce gently guides you toward the nearest table, and in a matter of seconds, you fling your upper body onto the surface, seizing hold of the edges. In the midst of your enthusiasm, you knock an empty glass beaker onto the floor.

"Sorry." You apologise drunkenly.

"We can...replace that." Bruce says, unaffected, driving his length into you with more vigour. You're able to spread your legs far wider in this position, allowing you to reap the reward of feeling a greater intensity of pleasure when Bruce sinks his member in your passage. His rubbing of your clit becomes more varied in pace and pressure, constantly keeping you guessing and-unsurprisingly-has you turning into a beserk sexual fiend.

"Fuck! Fuck! Oh my...fuck!" You yowl, your body being overwhelmed by the amassing pleasure, the coil of tension tightening in your loins. Bruce's thrusts become more powerful, his hand on your waist grips slightly harder.

"You feel...amazing...I can't...I can't even put it into words...." He pants.

"Doesn't matter...just keep fucking me..." You groan, your upper body sliding back and forth over the table. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sensations, the burning heat radiating from you, and the sweat prickling your skin.

"Jesus, Bruce...you're so fucking good..." You praise him, verging on incoherent. Bruce, like any red-blooded male, takes this extolment and doubles his efforts to bring you further ecstacy. His hand moves from your waist to-you assume-lay flat on the table, to support himself and help him build momentum. The head of his penis strikes a glorious place within you, and you become a squealing, frantically moaning mess, teetering on the edge of orgasmic salvation. You try desperately to cling on to the crumbling edge of your plateau, waiting avidly to hear Bruce vocalise his pleasure.

"I'm gonna...[Your Name], I'm gonna...." He groans, his voice raising in pitch as if breaking. Unable to contain your orgasm, you allow yourself to tumble into wondrous bliss...

Your release washes over you, the tension is dragged from you in several flutters of your passage, so intense that your body is wracked with quakes.

Bruce, made a slave to your squeezing walls, orgasms with numerous hot spurts and a warm throbbing inside of you. Riding out the sleepy haze of your climaxes, you stay bent over the table, arms flopping over the edges of the table, and Bruce slumps forward-placing lazy kisses over your perspiring back. You hum contentedly at his nurturing touch, and reach back to brush your fingers through his hair fondly.

 

"That was fricking spectacular, Bruce." You commend him on his sexual performance. He chuckles lightly.

"Thank you, [Your Name], I'm very flattered." He accepts your compliment sweetly. You open your eyes with the intent purpose of turning your head to flash him a coy look, but you jolt in surprise when you see someone stood in the open doors of the elevator.

Tony...

His expression is indecipherable, he just stares at both you and Bruce. You have nothing to be ashamed of, yet you feel as though you've been caught in some incriminating act. Like you've been caught being _**unfaithful**_ even though Tony had expressed his relative acceptance of you being with other people...

 _ **But did he really mean it**_? You suddenly find yourself wondering with sickening dread.

Bruce stands straight, feeling awkward, likely for other reasons.

"Oh, Tony...um..."

"Guess I've walked in at a bad time?" Tony pretends to make light of the situation.

"I would have to agree." Bruce acknowledges bashfully. "Um-" He clears his throat uncomfortable "-did you, um, need to see me...about something?"

"Yeah, but...it can wait. Doesn't really matter. Not that important. I'll leave you both to it." Tony replies rather curtly. You raise yourself up from the table, staring at him fearfully. He flashes you a look before he retreats into the elevator.

It's a look of heart-shattering betrayal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the reason for my taking so long with this chapter....I have to admit something (which Bruce-lovers may be offended by, so I apologise from the tooshie of my heart :s )...I have no interest or attraction to Bruce (well, um, Mark Ruffalo) so this chapter was very difficult to write. Or at least, the sex part of it. I can't glean much inspiration from a character I'm disinterested in. 
> 
> I hope this isn't reflected too much in the quality, but if it is, I am really sorry if it absolutely sucks eggs :(


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